He ceased. I wished to say something, but his recital had made so strong an impression on me, and he seemed so fully fixed in the belief of his approaching death, that I was silent. The shades of evening began to deepen around us, and the full moon rose struggling through a bank of clouds. "Come," said B----, "go with me to my room; I have something to give you as a memento of me." We went to his room and he took from a desk a dirk of beautiful workmanship, the handle richly ornamented with gold, and giving it to me said, "take this and keep it. I have been strongly tempted to use it against myself, but have refrained, for it shall not be said that I feared to live. Farewell. I have something to do, and you will excuse me." I wrung his hand and we parted. I never saw him again; but in the latter part of July I heard that he had returned from New York in a low state of health, having, as was said, wasted rapidly in a consumption. Early in August he died, making it his last request to be buried by the grave of Miss ----. It was complied with, and before he completed the twenty-second year of his age, he slept by the side of her he had loved. Peace to their ashes! BENEDICT. For the Southern Literary Messenger. THE CHANGES OF NATURE. Cum polo Phoebus roseis quadrigis.--_Boet: Lib. ii. Met. iii._ How oft when Sol, in rosy car, Pursues his radiant race, The malice of the evil star Sheds paleness o'er his face! How oft when Spring sets out her flowers, And opening blossoms play, An angry cloud, with chilling showers, Sweeps all their charms away! How oft when Ocean smiles serene, Composing all his waves, A sudden storm confounds the scene, And sailors find their graves! Oh! then, since this is Nature's style, Still changing from her birth, Why trust her false, deceitful smile? Why look for rest on earth? ORIGINAL LITERARY NOTICES. THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. By the author of Pelham, &c. 2 vols. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1834.