I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. “This is not a matter altogether for levity, Anna,” she said. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. " "You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely recovering his cheerfulness of look. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. .
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