Then beside the pathway kneeling, Folded he his freezing hands, While the blinding snows were drifted Like the desert’s lifted sands. As in many an old cathedral, Curtained round with solemn gloom, One may see a marble cherub Kneeling on a marble tomb! With his face to heaven upturning, For the dead he seems to pray, While the organ o’er him thunders, And the incense curls away! Thus he knelt, all pale and icy, When the storm at midnight passed, And the silver lamps of heaven Burned above the pausing blast. In that starry-roofed cathedral Knelt the cherub form in prayer, While the smoke from snowy censers Drifted upward through the air. Though no organ’s grand vibration Shook the winds that lingered near, Think ye not the hymns of angels Trembled on his dying ear? * * * * * A COQUETTE CONQUERED. OR THE TRIALS OF A HEART OF PRIDE. BY JAMES S. WALLACE. CHAPTER I. “——I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man: But nature never framed a woman’s heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; Disdain and scorn hide sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on: she cannot love, Nor take no shape, nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared.” —SHAKSPEARE. “There was a sound of revelry by night”—music and the dance—the twin-born daughters of fashionable enjoyment presided o’er the scene. Amy Laverty shone like a blaze of beauty; it was almost impossible for a casual observer to decide in what particular grace or elegance she so excelled her compeers as to queen it over all. One admired the glossy ringlets, which fell in profusion over a brow and neck which would have defied the pencils of Inman or Sully, or the chisel of Powers; another, the intellectuality which beamed from her full eye, “soft as when the blue sky trembles through a cloud of purest white.” Each beauty of feature and of form had its admirer, and though all differed as to her style of charms, still opinion was unanimous as to her transcendant perfection.