It was the hour when early dawn first glows the orient skies. That rising sun would be the last that would ever lighten the Earl's eyes! It was a lovely morning in late spring,--a dewy coolness breathed over the woods and plains,--the first rays were shedding their radiance on the distant hills,--the old Towers were just catching the descending glory,--birds were singing, flowers unfolding, and timid deer shaking the dew-drops from their flanks. It was the infancy of the day,--the birth of the light,--the morning of the natural world,--the spring of the year. It was all this without. To have walked over the verdant park,--to have wandered through the green woods, with their vernal leaf,--to have tracked the bubbling rivulet,--to have breathed the fresh morning air,--to have watched the matin glow,--to have heard the bird's early carol,--to have glanced at that fine old mansion,--who would have thought of death? Everything was life! Everything was gladness without those walls! Who would have thought of death within? And yet the owner of these broad estates,--these woods,--flood and fells,--the lord of that ancient castle,--the master of all we see,--was then _dying_. The lady of his love,--the mistress of all we see,--_dead_![I] Ah! what a different scene is within that pile! Let us open the door of the banqueting-room--the room where wine and merriment had often made the long winter evenings seem short--the room where we have seen so many of the noble family and their friends pass the wine-cup that circled the halls with glee! Let us see what is there now. The great table is clothed with crape; the walls are draped with black; and on that table lies a narrow coffin. There is nothing funeral about its appearance; it is covered with white velvet, and ornamented with silver; white silken ropes pass through the handles, and each has a wrought-silver tassel. A bright silver plate shines in the centre,--above it the coronet and arms of the Wentworths are engraved,--on it are the simple name and age of the departed one,-- ELLEN, COUNTESS OF WENTWORTH, Aged 31 years. She sleeps in peace! On the lid a wreath of white roses has been placed, as a tribute of undying love, by Augusta. There is something bright in the death of such a being,--it is the birth into glory!