As the friend raised the refreshing draught, she marked such a change in Mary's countenance, that her heart quailed at the thought of the terrible vigil she was keeping, in the silence of night, alone. She kneeled by the sick, and offered up her prayer with an energy unknown to her before, such a one as a heart strong in faith, and nerved by love and fear alone could dictate; a pleading, borne on high by the angel of might, for the strengthening of the immortal soul in prison-clay before her. There was a sigh and a groan; she rose hastily and bent over the couch--there was a gasping for breath, and all was still. Ella's desolate shriek of anguish first told the tale, that Mary was dead. Thus passed again to the Giver, a mind entrusted with high powers, and uncontrolled affections, who, in the waywardness of youth, cast unreservedly at the shrine of idolatrous love, her all of earthly hopes, then wandered forth with naught but their ashes, in the treasured urn of past remembrance, seeking to cover that with the mantle of the world's glittering folly. TO THE AUTHOR OF "THE RAVEN." BY MISS HARRIET B. WINSLOW. Leave us not so dark uncertain! lift again the fallen curtain! Let us once again the mysteries of that haunted room explore-- Hear once more that friend infernal--that grim visiter nocturnal! Earnestly we long to learn all that befalls that bird of yore: Oh, then, tell us something more! Doth his shade thy floor still darken? dost thou still, despairing, hearken To that deep sepulchral utterance like the oracles of yore? In the same place is he sitting? Does he give no sign of quitting? Is he conscious or unwitting when he answers "Nevermore?" Tell me truly, I implore! Knows he not the littlenesses of our nature--its distresses? Knows he never need of slumber, fainting forces to restore? Stoops he not to eating--drinking? Is he never caught in winking When his demon eyes are sinking deep into thy bosom's core? Tell me this, if nothing more! Is he, after all, so evil? Is it fair to call him "devil?" Did he not give friendly answer when thy speech friend's meaning bore? When thy sad tones were revealing all the loneness o'er thee stealing, Did he not, with fellow-feeling, vow to leave thee nevermore? Keeps he not that oath he swore? He, too, may be inly praying--vainly, earnestly essaying To forget some matchless mate, beloved yet lost for evermore. He hath donned a suit of mourning, and, all earthly comfort scorning, Broods alone from night till morning. By thy memories Lenore, Oh, renounce him nevermore.