When the night is dark and stormy As the passions of the soul, And the knell of fleeted glories Echoes in the thunder’s roll; When the lurid lightning flashes With its angry light above, It is naught I see beyond it To my lost, my early love. * * * * * =WE LAID HER DOWN TO REST.= =BY C. C. BUTLER.= The summer winds were lightly strung, The golden eve drew near, The gentle zephyrs sweetly sung, To call from us a tear; Oh! sadly sweet that mournful strain That called her to the blest, As ’neath the green and fertile plain We laid her down to rest. The smile of love that rested there Upon her blooming cheek, Doth shine in that bright world of prayer, Where angels only speak. We look to see that face in vain— That gentle heaving breast— But ’neath the green and fertile plain We laid her down to rest. That gentle voice is hushed in death— She closed her weary eyes— While angels watched the parting breath, And took her to the skies. Yes! Death, to break the golden chain, Appeared a welcome guest— And ’neath the green and fertile plain We laid her down to rest. * * * * * =THE PEDANT:= =OR CHAPTERS FROM A LIFE SPENT PARTLY IN CAROLINA.= =BY HENRY HOLM, ESQ.= (_Concluded from page 167._) CHAPTER XI. I think that the better half, and much the most agreeable one, or the pleasures of the mind is best enjoyed while one is upon one’s legs. Malthus. Dreading as I do any thing which might tempt my patient readers to anticipate adventure, plot, or catastrophe in these chapters, I must premise that the bit of episode, which I am about to relate, is all for the sake of introducing a friend, whose gifts and example wrought a critical change in my studies. It will transfer the attention to certain localities of our neighboring state.