Of beaming eyes, and tresses gay, Elastic form and noble brow, And charms--that all have passed away, And left them--_what we see them now_! And is it thus!--_is_ human love So very light and frail a thing! And must Youth's brightest visions move For ever on Time's restless wing? Must all the eyes that still are bright, And all the lips that talk of bliss, And all the forms so fair to sight, Hereafter only come to this? Then what are Love's best visions worth, If we at length must lose them thus? If all we value most on earth, Ere long must fade away from us? If that _one_ being whom we take From all the world, and still recur To all _she_ said, and for her sake Feel far from joy, when far from her; If that one form which we adore, From youth to age, in bliss or pain, Soon withers and is seen no more-- Why do we love--if love be vain! In what strange contrast with a picture like this, does the beautiful UHLAND place some of his nature-colored characters! How sweetly does he draw the picture of two devoted beings, practising palmistry, with palm to palm, and uttering a world of downy nonsense beneath the rolling moon: 'IN a garden fair were roaming, Two lovers, hand in hand; Two pale and shadowy creatures, They sat in that flowery land. On the lips, they kissed each other, On the cheeks so full and smooth; They were wrapt in close embracings-- They were warm in the flush of youth.' These are very apt verses to be made directly out of a man's head, ar'n't they? How the author must have been haunted with visions; all 'Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath.' * * * * * I FORGOT to observe, that the postillion of whom I have spoken, was _rather_ profane. He told a story of his experience some years before, with a divine, who was riding with him, on his professional seat, in the west, to attend a 'protracted meeting.' 'It was about 'lection time,' said he, 'and I had just gi'n in my vote. Of _course_, I was used with _hospitality_; and I was a leetle 'how-come-you-so?' as Miss Kimball says in her Tower. Well I driv on, at an uncommon rapid rate; (that's a fact;) and whensumever I threw out the mail-bags at a stoppin' place, I replenished the inner individual. At last I became, as the parson observed, 'manifestly inebriated;' and he ondertook for to lecter _me_! I said nothing, until he observed, or rather remarked, that 'he should not be surprised if I fell from my seat some day, and would be found with my head broke, and extravagantsated blood on the pious matter.'' 'Well,' says I, 'I shouldn't be surprised; it would be just my d----d etarnal luck!'' 'He didn't say no more all the trip. I shot him up.' 'But the election'--it was inquired--'did you succeed in that?'