THE FLOWER AND THE TREE.

THERE was a verdant little spot,
By clustering ivies sweetly shaded,
Velveted o'er with living moss,

And lit by stars that never faded.
A flower in the sweet spot sprang up,
And grew until its bloom was bright;
Then, in its prime, it sadly drooped,

And closed its soft leaves on the light.

A poet told its history, as he passed by, and sighed: "A flower sprang up amid the moss, and grew, and bloomed, and died."

Ere Winter forged his glittering chains,

Where the young flower had drooped its head,
Nature another child brought forth,

And nursed it on the same soft bed.

New strength was added, beauty given ;

Until, a mighty tree, its top

Was mingled with the gray of heaven.

Again the poet struck his lyre, and woods and groves

replied,

"For ages shall the tree survive, majestic in its pride."

That mossy, cool spot is my heart,

And love, the heaven-tinted flower;

It grew it bloomed - then withered, died,

And passed away, in one brief hour.

Though other flowers were bright and sweet,
The beauty of the scene was gone :
Love perished-every hope was dead;
The solemn soul was all alone.

A flower sprang up amid the moss, and grew, and bloomed, and died.

Love perished in a youthful heart, and all was dead beside.

But soon a tree, above the place,
Shadowed the floweret's quiet grave;
So, when the flowers of love have closed,
The leaves of friendship kindly wave.

So every year but addeth strength;

The frailer love hath passed forever

Less bright, but more enduring far,

The bloom of friendship withereth never.

Love sprang forth in a passionate heart, it grew, and bloomed, and died;

But friendship's tree still stately waves, majestic in its

pride!

THE INVISIBLE RING.

In early life I often felt a strong desire to be able to make myself invisible, that I might visit the abodes of men without their knowledge of my presence, and thereby learn in what state true contentment was to be found. Being seated, one lovely afternoon, beneath a spreading elm, wholly lost in the all-absorbing subject, the good little fairy who presided at my birth suddenly made her appear

ance.

"You have long been importuning me," said she, "for the power to become invisible, that you might discover the secret dwelling of content. I now present you with a ring, which can never be perceived by any one but yourself, and which will enable you to pass through crowds unseen, when placed upon your finger; but on these conditions only will it avail you aught that you never divulge your secret to any living mortal, nor use its power for any improper purpose, so long as you wish for its services."

She ceased speaking, and on raising my eyes I found she had disappeared; but the beautiful ring lay in my lap. Feeling somewhat impatient to test

its power, I placed it upon my finger, and sallied forth to "take observations." The first dwelling I entered was in a very retired spot, and though somewhat uninviting in its external appearance, I hoped the best and noblest qualities of the human mind might there be ripening for a blessed eternity; but the first sounds that met my ear were the petulant complaints of the wife, and the harsh, vulgar taunts of the husband. Three or four children occupied another part of the room, and were quarrelling among themselves, making a sad symphony to the tones of the parents. I turned away in sorrow at the thought that here, in this secluded place, the violent passions should have found an entrance.

Passing farther on, I next came to a splendid mansion, the country seat of an opulent gentleman in the city. Every thing that met the eye was delightful. The grounds were tastefully arranged, the finely-shaded walks were deliciously cool and refreshing, and the garden filled with the rarest plants and flowers. I hastily passed along, impatient to see the happy inmates of such a delightful place. On stepping in, I found, as I expected, every thing in perfect keeping with the exterior all was rich and elegant; but on entering a superb parlor, how soon did the pleasure I had anticipated vanish! There sat the mistress, surrounded by every thing a rational being could desire, pouring forth her complaints in the ear of a poor dependent relative, who was sitting hard by. The servants

were unfaithful, dishonest, disobliging. There was nothing worth looking at if she went out, and nothing to interest her within; and worse yet, the fashionable season for returning to the city was still some weeks distant, and how could she exist in this dull place so long? At the window, in a recess, sat the master, yawning and half asleep, apparently incapable of enjoying any thing not connected with the rise of stocks, unless, perhaps, a feeling of pride at having decidedly the most splendid country residence in the parts might afford him an enviable gleam of pleasure occasionally. I need hardly say, that nowhere in this establishment was content to be found.

Disappointed, but not discouraged, I bent my steps towards a pretty, neat cottage, not far distant, where every thing wore the appearance of real comfort without, and not less so within. Neatness, order, and frugality, shone conspicuously in every apartment. The mistress, a blooming matron of thirty-five, surrounded by a group of sweet little chubby faces, was busily employed in the various duties of wife, mother, and thorough housekeeper. Though of a quiet turn of mind, she never shrunk from the assigned path of duty, however arduous. Difficulties only aroused her energies, and invigorated her resolution. The gay world around had no charms for her. Her heart was at home. Here she felt she was most useful and happy. I regretted that the husband and father of this interesting