front, Caroline next to and behind me; a hare crossed my path: "take care my boy," cried Colonel H----d, "that, you know, is said to be a bad omen." Scarcely had he spoken when my horse started, and wheeled short round; the mare partook of his fright, swerved half to the left, and reared bolt upright. "Slack your rein and seize the mane, Caroline," I screamed in agony. It was too late; the mare struggled, and fell backwards. Oh, God! A shriek, a rushing sound * * * * * I entered the chamber where innocence and beauty had been wont to repose; around me were the trappings of the grave; the cold white curtains with their black crape knots, the shrouded mirror, the scattered herbs--and stretched upon the bed motionless, lay a form--the form of her whose living excellence was unsurpassed. My father came in; he took my hand, led me to the bed, and gently removed the sheet from the marble face. Oh, death, thou art indeed a conqueror! For the Southern Literary Messenger. SONNET, WRITTEN ON THE BLUE RIDGE IN VIRGINIA. Gigantic sov'reign of this mountain-chain, Proud Otter Peak! as gazing on thee now I mark the sun its parting splendor throw Athwart thy summit hoar--I sigh with pain To think thus soon I needs must turn again And seek man's bustling haunts! What if my brow No longer wear the signs of sorrow's plough, Doth not my heart its traces still retain, And I still hate the crowd?--Yes! it is so, And scenes alone such as surround me here-- These deep'ning shades--thy torrents loud and clear-- Yon half-hid cot--the cattle's plaintive low-- The raven's cry, and the soft whispering breeze, Have now the pow'r this aching breast to please. * * * For the Southern Literary Messenger. STANZAS, WRITTEN AT THE WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS OF VIRGINIA. With spirits like the slacken'd strings Of some neglected instrument-- Or rather like the wearied wings Of a lone bird by travel spent; Ah! how should I expect to find Midst scenes of constant revelry, A solace for a troubled mind, A cure for my despondency?-- There was a time when mirth's glad tone And pleasure's smile had charms for me-- But disappointment had not strown My pathway then with misery: Health then was mine--and friends sincere-- Requited love--and prospects bright-- Nor dreamt I that a day so clear Could ever set in such a night! * * * For the Southern Literary Messenger. TO ---- ---- OF THE U. S. NAVY. Tell me--for thou hast stood on classic ground, If there the waters flow more bright and clear, And if the trees with thicker foliage crowned, Are lovelier far than those which blossom here? Say is it true, in green unfading bowers, That there the wild bird sings her sweetest lay? And that a light, more beautiful than ours, Lends richer glories to expiring day?