Oh, lovely were once her eyes, but grief Their light hath now o'erclouded— And her lips were sweet, like the budding leaf, Though now their bloom be shrouded— For in her heart, a malady Like the canker-worm in the rose, Preys ever there, unceasingly, And gives her no repose. It is sad to think, in a few short hours, We shall look on her no longer, For the glance gives sign of the failing powers, And the pang grows hourly stronger; We shall lose the balm of her budding breath, We shall hear her voice no more; We shall see those sweet eyes sealed in death, That we once could so adore. Yet shall I not weep, though losing all For many long days I so have loved; The tear that from mine eyes would fall, My thought has well reproved: For hers has been a doomed life, And those who love her well, should pray, That she may quickly lose the strife, That has eaten her heart away. THE RIGHT OF INSTRUCTION. BY JUDGE JOSEPH HOPKINSON. _Dear Sir_—I am well aware that my letter on the Right of Instruction, published in your June number, will encounter, in Virginia and elsewhere, names of high and deserved authority, and talents of great power, if it shall be thought worthy of any attention. I must therefore beg you to allow me to explain my views of this interesting subject, a little more fully than was necessary or proper in a letter to a friend. The additions, however, will be briefly made. I am particularly desirous to sustain myself by the countenance of our distinguished patriots and jurists, especially those who, having assisted in framing the government, may be presumed to understand its mechanism at least as well as the politicians of a later date; who are, as I have suggested, the authors of the doctrine of instructions. It was unknown to those who made the constitution—as well as to those writers and speakers who afterwards attacked and defended it.