When the fight was ended, and the smoke had cleared off, and quietude had returned with death, the good wife of the commissaire reclaimed Paqueta’s body. There was no hurt upon it, she said; and about her neck she found, fastened by a little black ribbon, a very small bronze medal, which she had never seen her wear before. And now she rests, side and side with the one she loved so much, in the bosom of the Pere la Chaise. Of all who fell upon that terrible day, Paqueta was among the noblest. She fought on neither side; knew nothing of liberty, of despotism, of forms of government; knew only her love, and the man who kept it, her life and—her death. Generous Paqueta, noble Paqueta, brave Paqueta, my pen shall ever run riot when speaking of thee—Heaven bless thy soul. * * * * * =RECOLLECTIONS.= =BY MISS MATTIE GRIFFITH.= The twilight now is blushing o’er the earth— The west is glowing like a garden, rich With summer’s many-tinted blooms; the flowers Of earth hold up their fairy cups to catch The softly falling dew-drops; the bright stars Are set like glorious diamonds on the dark Blue drapery of the halls of heaven; the pale, Sweet moon, like some young angel of the air, Floats from the east upon her silver wing; Eve’s golden clouds hung low—and thin, white mists Rise silently and beautifully up Through the calm atmosphere. Serenity And loveliness and beauty are abroad O’er the whole world of Nature. At this hour, When all the dark, wild passions of the breast Are hushed and quelled by Nature’s spell of power, When every wayward feeling is rebuked And chastened by the blended influence Of earth and heaven, I’ve stolen forth alone Beneath the blue and glorious sky, to hold Communion with the golden hours now gone Into the past eternity.