A stranger hand writes that Mary---- resided for some time in the retreat she had chosen, the idolized of the poor, the friend of the afflicted, more like an angel than aught belonging to this lower sphere, yet showing that she was of the earth, by the look of tender melancholy which haunted her cheek, and said how surely, "early griefs a lengthened shadow fling." She died in her youthful bloom, and the bitter sobs and lamentations of the poor testified to her worth. Her money still remains for them in perpetuity, but the meek, dove-like eyes are darkened, and gone the voice whose music made many glad. So have we seen a stream suddenly dried up, whose presence was only known by the verdure on its margin, scarcely known, scarcely cared for, except by the humble floweret, but, when gone, its absence was deplored by the sterility where once were bloom and freshness. ESCAPE FROM A MEXICAN QUICKSAND. BY CAPT. MAYNE REID A few days afterward, another "adventure" befell me; and I began to think that I was destined to become a hero among the "mountain men." A small party of the traders--myself among the number--had pushed forward ahead of the caravan. Our object was to arrive at Santa Fé, a day or two before the wagons, in order to have every thing arranged with the governor for their entrance into that capital. We took the route by the Cimmaron. Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert, without game, and almost without water. The buffalo had already disappeared, and deer were equally scarce. We had to content ourselves on the dried meat which we had brought from the settlements. We were in the deserts of the _Artemisia_. Now and then we could see a stray antelope bounding away before us, but keeping far out of range. They, too, seemed to be unusually shy. On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near the Cimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind a swell in the prairie. My companions were skeptical, and would none of them go with me; so, wheeling out of the trail, I started alone. One of the men--for Godé was behind--kept charge of my dog, as I did not choose to take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. My horse was fresh and willing; and whether successful or not, I knew that I could easily overtake the party by camping time. I struck directly toward the spot where I had seen the object. It appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved more distant--a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these upland regions. A curiously-formed ridge--_a couteau des prairies_, on a small scale--traversed the plain from east to west. A thicket of cactus covered part of its summit. Toward this thicket I directed myself.