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mind sought a relief from the weight of tenderness, in a change of bodily position. We stood together facing the little Mopument—and his narrative was soon brought to a close.

“We were now all collected togetherround the grave. The silence of yesterday, at the Elder's Funeral, was it not felt by you to be agreeable to all our natural feelings? the words which were now spoken over these Children. The whole ceremony was different, but it touched the very same feelings in our hearts. It lent an expression, to what, in that other case, was willing to be silent. There was a sweet, sad, and a mournful consistency in the ritual of death, from the moment we receded from the door of the Manse, accompanied by the music of that dirge sung by the clear tremulous voices of the young, till we entered the Kirk with the coffin to the sound of the priest's chaunted verses from Job and John, during the time when we knelt round the dead children in the House of God, also during our procession thence to the grave-side, still attended with chaunting, or reciting, or sponding voices; and, finally, at the moment of dropping of a piece of earth upon the coffin, (it was from my own hand,) while the priest said, “We commit their bodies to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

So were



“Next day their Mother arrived at the Manse. She knew, before she came, that her children were dead and buried. It is true that she wept; and at the first sight of their grave, for they both lay in one coffin, her grief was passionate and bitter. But that fit soon passed away. Her tears were tears of pity for them, but as for herself, she hoped that she was soon to see them in Heaven Her face pale, yet flushed-her eyes hollow, yet bright, and a general langour and lassitude over her frame, all told that she was in the first stage of a consumption. This she knew and was happy. But other duties called her back to England, for the short remainder of her life. She herself drew the design of that Monument with her own hand, and left it with me when she went away.

Í soop heard of her death. Her husband lies buried near Grenada, in Spain; she lies in the chancel of the Cathedral of Salisbury, in England; and there sleep her Twins in the little burial-ground of Auchindown, a Scottish Parish.”

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As Summer flowers they grew,

Expanding to the morn,
All gemm’d with sparkling dew,

As flowers without a thorn,-
Each was a sweet and lovely flower,
Sweeter and lovelier every hour.
But ah! my morning bloom

Scarce felt the warming ray;
An unexpected gloom,

Obscured the rising day;
A dreary, cold, and withering blast
Low on the ground their beauties cast.
Their glistening leaves are shed,

That spread so fresh and fair;
The balmy fragrance fled,

That scented forth the air;
And lowly laid their lifeless form
The gentle victims of the storm!
But why in anguish weep?

Hope beams upon my view; 'Tis but a winter's sleep,

My flowers shall spring anewEach darling flower on earth that sleeps, O'er which fond memory bangs and weeps : Ali to new life shall rise,

In heavenly beauty bright, Shall charm my ravish'd eyes,

In tints of rainbow light, Shall bloom unfading in the skies, And drink the dews of Paradise.


THE WRYNECK. The Wryneck derives its name from its peculiar habit of lengthening the neck, which at the same time it writhes from side to side with serpent-like bendings, now pressing down the feathers so as to resemble the head of a snake, and again half-closing the eyes, swelling out the throat, and erecting its crest, when it presents an appearance at once singular and ludicrous.

Among our most interesting and attractive birds, this little harbinger of spring delights us, not by the splendour of its hues, but by the chasteness of its colouring, and the delicate and singular way of its markings, which, from their intricacy and irregularity almost defy the imitations of the pencil. Among our migratory or wandering birds the

Wryneck is one of the earliest visitors; arriving at the beginning of April, generally a few days before the cuckoo, (whose mate, from this circumstance, it has been called) when his shrill unchanging note, pee pee pee, rapidly reiterated, may be heard in our woods and gardens. The places where this bird is found, appear to be very limited; the midland counties being those to which it usually resorts in England.

In manners, the Wryneck is shy and lonesome; and were it not for its loud and wellknown call, we should not often be aware of its presence; its quiet habits leading to close retirement, and its sober colour, which agrees with the brown bark of the trees, tending also to its concealment.

In confinement, however, or when wounded, this little bird manifests much boldness; hissing like a snake, erecting its crest, and defending itself with great spirit.

It breeds with us soon after its arrival, the female selecting the hole of a tree, in which she lays her eggs, to the number of eight or nine, of an ivory white. The

young take after the plumage of the parent birds, which shows scarcely any difference between the two


The food of the Wryneck, like that of the weaker-billed Woodpeckers, consists of caterpillars and other insects, especially ants and their larvæ, to which it is very partial. In the

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