And so she was to the end. She died in that infirmary, and not very long after. When the Morells' letter came, it was plain that they had enough to do to take care of themselves. So she did not let them know,--in her reply, written by the hands of the schoolmaster,--where she was. The letter was so cheerful that they are probably far from suspecting, at this moment, how she died and was buried. As "from the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," there was so much in her letter as rather surprised them about her hope and expectation that the time would come when hearty work in the vigorous season of life should secure its easy close; and when a greater variety of employment should be opened to women. There was more of this kind of speculation and less news and detail of facts than they would have liked. But it was a household event to have a letter from Miss Smith; and the very little children, forgetting the wide sea they had passed, began shouting for Miss Smith to come to them just (as it happened) when her ear was closing to every human voice. ON THE ATTEMPTS TO DISCOVER THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE. There are some peculiarities of style in the following performance, which is by no means devoid of eloquence, and which derives a certain interest from the efforts now being made to discover the fate of Sir John Franklin. The author is GEORGE STOVIN VENABLES, LL. D., of Jesus College, Cambridge. THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE. "And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold; And ice, mast high, came floating by, As green as emerald. And through the drifts and snowy clifts Did send a dismal sheen: Nor shape of men, nor beasts we ken-- The ice was all between-- The ice was here, the ice was there-- The ice was all around: It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and howl'd, Like noises in a swound." COLERIDGE. _Rime of the Ancient Mariner._ The secret wonders of the gloomy North bid proud defiance, in their solitude, to man's triumphant daring. Who shall pierce the ancient prison-house where Nature's might, in mightier chains of adamantine frost, lies fettered, since Creation? Who shall live where promontories huge, of piled ice, like monstrous fragments of primeval worlds tossed on the surge of Chaos, over the waves rear their triumphant heads, and laugh to scorn the undreaded kinghood of the lordly sea?