For three days, happiness seemed to have all the effect that I had ever attributed to it in my brightest fancies. Louise was certainly better, and she looked so happy, so cheerful, walked up and down the passage hanging on my arm, with a step so much lightened, that even the old professor caught the infection of our hopes, and began to talk of future days. The medicine soon lost its power over the invincible enemy. We had been married just six days, and during the three last, Louise had been feebler again, and very restless at night. The sixth day was a warm, sunny one. The light shone cheerfully into our room, and she talked to me of the sweet aspect of the summer, and made me open the window to let in the gentle air. One room of the old professor’s house looked out upon the ramparts, planted with trees. It was a large room, seldom used; but Louise asked me to go in there, and open the windows before she rose, saying, that she should like to sit and look at the green leaves. Her father came in before she was dressed, and when she was ready, we took her out of her room, with a hand resting on the arm of each, and led her into that saloon. I had placed an arm-chair for her near the window, and she approached feebly and seated herself in it. The air was very balmy: a clear, sparkling sunshine brightened the foliage: the sky beyond, was as deep and blue as her own eyes, and she gazed for an instant, with a look of intense thought upon the scene before her. Then looking up in my face as I stood beside her, she placed her hand in mine, and said—“Very beautiful!” They were her last words. The next instant, a strange, vacant expression came into those deep thoughtful eyes, a slight shudder passed over her: she leaned more and more toward me; and I had just time to kneel by her side, and catch her head upon my shoulder. I felt one faint breath fan my cheek—and Louise was gone. (_End of part first._) * * * * * FADED AND GONE. BY MISS S. J. C. WHITTLESEY. Faded and gone are the Summer’s sweet flowers, Strewn by the wintry winds o’er the dark mould! Smilers, when sunlight stole through the soft hours, Down from yon azure their leaves to unfold. Bright were their beauties when breezes swept on O’er the blue waters to gather perfume; Whisperers lovely, now faded and gone! Slumberers lonely ’mid dullness and gloom! Oh! but the Spring-time will come o’er the plain Wooing the whispering blossoms again, With its soft tread o’er the emerald lawn— Then we’ll not mourn for the faded and gone!