I sat absorbed in the scene until the sun began to drop below the hills, and the warmth of the coloring upon the water was yielding to the neutral and colder tints of evening, but upward along the sides of the hills the gorgeousness of the sunlight was in its fullness. Casting my eyes away to the right, I noticed a gathering on the upland: and on looking closer I could discover the forms of those who had composed the morning procession. They had made a grave for the little one of their flock, and had gathered around it to do the last offices to the inanimate form. They all bowed together, as if taking a last look, and when they raised their heads, I thought I caught a little of the wild cry of the anguished mother--but I must have been deceived, the distance was too great, but the signs of grief were _visible_, and I saw the father sustaining with his arm the afflicted wife, and the other members of the group cast their eyes toward their afflicted female companion. The air was full of dust, the consequence of a long drought, and as the floating particles reflected the sunbeams, the funeral gathering seemed for a moment, bathed in the glorious light of the setting sun, transfigured on their mount of sorrow--transfigured from the poor mendicant wanderers they had appeared in the morning, to children of light. That glorious sunset on the islands and waters of the Susquehanna cannot soon fade from my memory--nor shall I easily forget the blaze of glory shed around the infant's grave. Strange that the richness of sunlight should spring from the impure particles by which it is reflected--but in this world of ours what but errors and impurities of the human kind make visible and beautiful the grace of Him in whose light and heat "we live and move and have our being?" PEDRO AND INEZ. BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES. [It is a well known fact that the hapless Inez de Castro, the young and beautiful bride of Pedro of Portugal, was murdered, while he was absent on a hunting excursion.] Softly broke the light of morning, through a pictured window's gloom, Blandly strayed the zephyr's winglet 'mid rich plants of Eastern bloom, Shedding a strong spicy fragrance round that gorgeous room, Lightly on her couch of purple slumbered Pedro's new-made bride, In her young unshadowed beauty, with no other thought beside That which his deep love had poured o'er her spirit's tide. Softly had Prince Pedro risen from his nuptial couch that morn, Lightly donned his hunting vesture, at the call of hound and horn: Yet he bends enamored o'er that face of Beauty born. One more love-glance, yet another, on the sleeping face he cast; Soft he stoops to meet that red lip--one light kiss--the last! "God and our Lady bless thee, love!"--and so Prince Pedro passed.