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THE MEMPHIAN MUMMY-VEGETABLE INSTINCT.

Written for the Casket.

THE MEMPHIAN MUMMY.
"Wrapped in mysterious weeds."-POLLOK..

Maiden! thy form hath not yet lost its grace,

Though from that cheek hath fled life's rosy glow, And smiles seem playing on the very face, A mother kissed some thousand years ago. Although thy lips are bloodless now and cold, Time hath not reft thee of thy teeth of pearl, And beauty lingers in the locks of gold, Which on thy forhead curl.

Nature! t y debt have mighty nations paid,

And o'er them closed oblivion's misty wave,
Since weeping friends that human wreck arrayed,
In the sad vestments of the starless grave.
That sunken eye with pleasure may have beamed,
Or tears perhaps that dusky cheek have wet,
Upon that brow for aught I know hath gleamed
Some queenly coronet.

Perchance that ear so very dull and cold,

The mystic lyre of Memnon often heard,
When sunrise tinged the morning sky with gold,

And all its strings melodiously sti red.
An infant may have slumbered in those arms,
Which hang so still and nerveless by thy side;
Perchance some Pharoah, yielding to thy charms,
Made thee his royal bri: e.

Amid the chords of some love-breathing lute,
Those taper fingers may have often strayed;
That tongue which has for centuries been mute,

To Apis or to Isis may have prayed;
When ancient Memphis was the seat of power;
When mirth and music reigned within her walls,
Perhaps she wasted many a pleasant hour,

A guest in princely halls.

The breathing statue and the speaking bust
Of all their grace and beauty have been reft,
And dome and tower have crumbled into dust,
Since thy freed soul its mortal prison left.
Although the rock for many ages hid,
That human ruin from the light of day,
It scarcely feels, like Egypt's pyramid,
The finger of decay.

The smiling sunbeam falls upon thee now,
But cannot melt the icy chain of death,
The zephyr's wing is fanning thy dark brow,
But thou art reckless of its balmy breath.
When joy held empire in that leathern breast,
Perhaps she wandered by the Nile's green shore,
And mused upon his billows when at rest,

Or listened to their roar.

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P. S. The Mummy, the auther had the pleasure of seeing was supposed to be a female, and the above lines suggested.

VEGETABLE INSTINCT. a

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Instinct is a particular disposition or tendency in a living being to embrace, without deliberation or reflection, the means of self-preservation, and to perform on particular occasions, such other actions as are required by its economy, without having any perception to what end or purposes it acts, or any idea of the utility and advantage of its own operation. Climbing plants

afford a curious instance of this instructive economy. Some of these having very slender stems, cannot, like most other plants, grow of themselves in a perpendicular direction; but in order to compensate for this incapacity, nature has given them the power of moving or twining their branches and tendrils different ways, until they generally meet with a tree or some other body on which to climb, to attach themselves; and when a tendril has laid hold of a support, it coils up and draws the stem after it.*

Trees and other vegetables have likewise the power of directing their roots for procuring nourishment:for instance, a tree growing near a ditch, will be found to direct its roots straight downwards, on the side next the ditch, until they reach the ground below it, when they will throw off fibres underneath, and ramify like the root on the other side of a tree. Some curious examples of this kind of instinct are related by Lord Kaimes, among which is the following:"A quantity of fine compost for flowers happened to be laid at the foot of a full grown elm, where it lay neglected three or four years; when moved in order to be carried off, a net work of elm fibres spread through the whole heap; and no fibres had before appeared at the surface of the ground."

Many flowers also fold up their leaves on the approach of fall or in cold cloudy weather, and unfold them again when cheered by the reanimating influence of the sun. This is remarkably exemplified in the convolvulus arvensis, anagallis arvensis, and many others, but more particularly in the last, whence it has been called the poor man's weather glass.

In Watson's Chemical Essays, also, it is stated that trefoil, wood-sorrel mountain ebony, the African marigold, and many others, are so regular in folding up their leaves before rainy weather, that these motions have been considered as a kind of instinct similar to that of ants.-Tupper on the Probability of Sensation in Vegetables.

Some plants open their petals to receive rain, others avoid it; some contract at the approach of a storm, others at the approach of night; while some expand and blossom only to the evening air.

Near the cape certain flowers form a species of chronometer. The morea unguiculata and undulata open at nine in the morning and close at four; the izia cinnamonea opens at the time the other closes, and sheds a delicious perfume throughout the night.

The stamina of the flowers of sorrel thorn are so peculiarly irritable, that when touched, they

* A mistake. The tendril does not draw the stem after it; it merely supports it. The stem increases in length only from the growth at the end. The limb of a tree and the tendril of a vine are always at the satne distance from the ground.

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AMBITION BLASTED TO MY DEAD BABY.

will incline almost two inches, and the upper | fell-and as he fell, the earthly prospects of Burr

joint of the leaf of the dionœa is formed like a machine to catch food. When an insect therefore settles on its glands, the tender parts become irritated, and the two lobes rise up, grasp the insect and crush it to death. The plane tree exhibits the power of exercising a sagacity for securing food not unworthy t unworthy of a an animal. Lord Kaimes relates, that among the ruins of New Abbey, in the county of Galloway, there grew in his time, on the top of one of its walls, a plane tree upwards of twenty feet in height. Thus situated, it became straitened for food and moisture, and therefore gradually directed its roots down the side of the wall, till they reached the ground at the distance of ten feet. When they had succeeded in this attempt, the upper roots no longer shot out fibres, but united in one; and shoots vigorously sprung up from the root which had succeeded in reaching the earth.

The island of St. Lucia presents a still more curious phenomenon in the animal flower. This organization lives in a large basin, the water of which is brackish. It is more brilliant than the marigold which it resembles. But when the hand is extended towards it, it recoils, and retires like a snail in the water. It is supposed to live on the spawn of fish.

In Java grows a plant, the Nepenthes distillatoria, remarkable for having a small vegetable bag attached to the base of its leaves. This bag is covered with a lid which moves on a strong fibre, answering the purpose of a hinge. When dews rise, or rains descend, the lid opens; when the bag is saturated, the lid falls and closes so tightly, that no evaporation can take place. The moisture thus imbibed, cherishes the seed, and is gradually absorbed into the body of the plant.

From the Youth's Companion.
AMBITION BLASTED.

Every one acquainted with the public men of our country, must know something of Aaron Burr, of this city, once Vice President of the United States. His history exhibits a striking instance of blasted ambition. Of a most persuasive eloquence and bland manners, with a deep knowledge of the human heart, Aaron Burr looked forward in his earlier days to the day highest offices and distinctions of the republic. He had attained the highest but one. But before his dark and searching eye there stood one obstacle to his ascent; it was Hamilton. The illustrious Hamilton, who had weathered the storms of the revolution by the side of Washington, and who had saved the nation in her counsels that Washington saved by his sword and Fabian prudence, was a patriot too incorruptible to look coldly on and see the rise of an unprincipled spirit, whose intellectual capaсity only equalled his want of principle. To the eye of Hamilton, Burr was in politics what Benedict Arnold had been in the field; and his opposition to his designs, partook of that keen and stern character which ever made Hamilton so terrible to the enemies of the true rights of the country.

They met, at length, on "the dark and bloody ground," about two miles above Hoboken, on the Jersey shore, opposite this city. Hamilton

darkened in thick-ribbed gloom.

Immediately after this catastrophe, the conduct of Burr began to excite attention. He frequently took sudden and rapid and distant journeys, disguised so as not to be known on the road. One week he would be seen in hit office in New York-the next in a distant city as if he had dropped from the clouds. It was as first supposed that he was suffering the agonies of remorse for the murder of Hamilton; but the eye of government soon detected the preparation for some design of violence. Arms and men had been gathered at different points, either for a division of the United States, or for a descent upon Mexico-or for both objects blended. He was arrested in the remote west, and carried in irons for many hundred miles through a country over whose Senate he had presided as the second officer of government, to the place designed for his trial. He was acquitted of the charge of treason, but the irreversible sentence of public opinion had gone forth against him. He became a wanderer in foreign lands.

Over a few of these vagrant years of his life a deep obscurity rests. He returned, however, to New York, the scene of his former glory and aspirations. Here he has spent his life with but little notice or distinction; and without any more influence over the public mind, than if he had been frozen into a statue of stone the moment that he sent the death-shot to the bosom of Hamilton.

Sometimes, now, a little, bowed-down man, with his eyes fastened on the pavement, may be seen hurrying along in the vicinity of Reed street. His hair, which was once black as the raven's wing, is now blanched with the whiteness of snow. His eyes, which once shot lightnings in their soul-searching glances, are now lustreless and dull. That man is AARON BURR.

From the Saturday Evening Post.

TO MY DEAD BABE.

Sweet angel! when I look upon that dear
Though lifeless form, so soon the food of worms,
The sickening thought pervades my very soul.
Torn from my arms in all thy loveliness,
Thy growing charms expanding day by day,
Filling thy mother's anxious yearning heart
With fondest hopes, that thou in future years
Wouldst walk in virtue's path, to manhood's prime
And as a pillar rais'd by God's own hand,
Support and comfort my declining years.
But 'tis his voice that calls thy spirit home
To rest upon his bosom. Kinder arms
Than e'en thy mother's open to receive
The precious charge; the treasure only lent;
Submit! my aching heart! and murmur not:
Ere long, and thou shalt meet him in the skies;
Where now before the eternal throne of God,
His spotless soul from pain and sorrow free,
Returns to Him whose holy voice commands
"Suffer those little ones to come to me
"Forbid them not! for such surround my throne."
A MOTHER.

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THE VICTIMS OF REVENGE.

Written for the Casket.

The Victims of Revenge.

BY M. Α. Β.

"Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb,
In life's happy morning, hath hid from our eyes,
Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom,
Or earth had profaned what was born for the skics."
M. S. S.

The sun had sunk in the western horizon. The lingering twilight shed a feeble and dying like lustre over the landscape, and clothed the surrounding heavens with those varied hues and romantic beauty, which the imagination is accustomed to view in an Italian sunset. The stars were coming into view silently; and one by one, in their lofty eminence, seemed to take their stations, as the guardians of night, over the lonely world. The hum and bustle of the distant camp had almost died away with the declining sun. And bird, and beast, and man were all seeking their resting place, till morning should again open to them new sources of profit, pleasure and gratification. It was the hour when the heart, if ever, must be open with benevolence to all mankind; and the full soul think of bygone days, departed joys, and the melancholy and pleasing scenes of life.

The beautiful Ohio, on the left, was rolling its peaceful water to the ocean. At a distance beyond a grove of woods, that skirted its margin, lay the encamped host of freedom's sons. Each thinking of his distant home, and friends, and wife, and happy days past and to come. The last notes of the war-drum, which beat to freedom and independence, had long since ceased to reverberate along our eastern shore. But another, and a bloodier cause, had again drawn out the embattled host to break the silence of the western forest, with martial array. Their watch fires shone far below, and their strutting sentinels began to pace the round of the camp. A few solitary savages, who roamed the country with pretended friendship to the invaders, were wandering about the outlines near the sentinels. The mansion of Montford Grenville stood at a distance from the camp. A small garrison was stationed there to prevent any violence that might be offered, either by hostile or friendly Indians. These stood round in groups; some chanting in a low tone their patriotic songs, or musing on the dangers they were soon to encounter. Within the mansion, far other scenes were acting. It was to be a bridal night. Every heart beat high with life and joy. The feelings of the aged parents were warmed up to a more than wonted pitch of gaiety. For why should they not? It was the eve of the consecration of their only daughter's hand and heart to a young and gallant officer of the army.

"Only twenty minutes more. They will soon be here," muttered Maria, in a low smothered tone, as she tripped, with a light heart, through the parlor where her parents were seated. "William Cleveland will soon be here, and I must be ready at the appointed time."

"Perhaps he will not be so very exact," said her father, in his careless manner. "An officer's time, however much he may desire it, is not always at his pleasure. And it would be a sad

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affair to be dressed in your pretty robe, and be a bride by yourself after all."

"The robe must be put on notwithstanding," interrupted Maria; and hastened to do as she had said, leaving her parents to their musings.

She was their only daughter, the comfort and solace of their declining years. Nature had not been sparing in dealing out to her the gifts of beauty and simplicity of manners; not that unmeaning beauty of person only, which, like the first blown flower of spring, delights the young heart with the gaiety and nice tints of its coloring, possessed of no other excellence. But it was that beauty, which results from an union of personal symmetry and intellectual endowments-the beauty of a soul beaming with intelligence and innocence. The twenty minutes had pass passed away, and Maria, decked out in her bridal dress, stood by the side of her parents. Rich was the flowing robe, which another's fancy and affections had prepared for this night; and she seemed for a moment to exult in its elegance, whilst her glowing cheek was high up with an unconscious blush, as she looked at the face of her endeared father.

"Well, matters stand as I told you, Maria," said Mr. Grenville, "your punctuality has exceeded that of your handsome Cleveland. You are now a bride. Nothing more is wanting than his presence to have a marriage celebration. But you will, I suppose, now be content to pass a few more minutes, before you renounce the name of Grenville for one that sounds much prettier in your ear."

This the gay father spoke in that playful kind of railery, which usually diverts the mind of age on the approach of some agreeable event. But that gaiety soon vanished, as Maria, changing her usual blush and modest look for a timid and wistful air, replied, "Yes, your prophecy has come true. If, however, I am not to be a bride here to-night, I must at yonder camp. Aye, that was my promise.",

Why, Maria," said the tender father, "what means this? How can such a singular fancy possess you, on a night like this? Dreaming of love has made you quite romantic. Your gallant knight I suppose intends to be hovering near your path, to prevent any danger that might happen to you alone."

"Do not mistake me, father. The truth is so. None of your romance and dreams. Our mutual agreement was, if he did not arrive here before the time, which has just past, I was to meet him at his tent. You cannot call that romantic. He might not obtain permission to leave the camp to-night; and to-morrow the army may probably resume its march to the west." This she spoke with a seriousness which at once dispelled every doubt concerning her intention.

"Surely, Maria, you would not set off at this time, to seek an unknown tent, in a strange camp, through dangers and darkness. What could be thought of your having done such a thing? Such a determination will be looked upon as wild-as the result of madness."

"Not madness, father-call it not madness;" returned Maria, in a plaintive tone, which expressed more sorrow for the pain she was likely

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to give her parents, than it showed a dread of
danger. "It is the determination of a cool, dis-
passionate reason. Yesterday, when I saw Cleve-
land, we conversed about all the results which
could happen from this; and his eye glowed
with fire when he asked once more, if I would
be willing to follow a soldier's fortune. Since
he has not arrived to gladden my aged parents'
hearts, with his gay and blooming countenance,
I must wait on him at the tent. This bridal
dress was not this night put on in vain. My faith
is plighted that it shall never be put off again,
till Cleveland has received my hand. Six months
ago, the day was set apart, when I was to be his
bride. When that day, bright and cloudless, had
arrived, he was summoned to aid our country's
cause. You refused our nuptials should be cele-
brated until his return. Then ended for awhile
my pleasing reveries, and anticipated happiness. of Cleveland dispels every other fear."

you, and direct you safely to the tent of Cleve-
land."

"No-no: name it not to him," exclaimed Maria, exchanging her look of earnestness and anxiety to one of wildness and terror, "name it not to him. Oh, Sigourney! Sigourney! Yesterday, when the sun was yet high in the heavens, as he and I were seated in the garden, I named Cleveland and our approaching nuptials; and oh, the bitter curse! His colour changedthen suddenly rising, he muttered an oath that Cleveland should have other business to attend to, than to dream away his time in devising marriages. That horrid oath that bloody look. Oh, name it not to Sigourney. He is more terrible than the wild savages, you appear so much to dread. But, then, he is to stay here till morning; I need not fear him. And the bright look

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"But can you, dear Maria, go this night, so contrary to every thing that borders on propriety? What would be thought should you fall victim to this rashness? What reproach would not be given to your memory-another sacrifice to a soldier's caprice? But why not go with Sigourney?"

He reproached me with unfaithfulness. Oh, that look, it was tender, but it was bitter. His parting glance blasted every hope and every pleasure; I remember that unhappy morning when we parted. Never did the sun rise more beautiful, never did it set more gloomy. With tears and reproaches we parted, never more to meet till we should meet where our mutual wrongs should be impartially redressed. He had given me this bridal dress. In reproach he bade me keep it as a memento of my unkindness. How many long and cheerless days have I spent since that time! How often, since then, have the bright visions of my childhood rose up to reproach me! Yesterday I first saw him, since we parted. The glow of youth had not yet departed from his brow. His step was as noble as ever. Still there was that cold look of scorn, which curled his lip when he bade me keep my hand for another, who could bear the reproach which I had given him. But soon his sternness passed away, and his mild blue eye looked upon me with the kindness of other days. I thought it seemed more bright than ever: and when he offered me his hand, he appeared melt-dress. "Can you, my dear María," said she, ed in tenderness for his former conduct. We "can you face the dangers that oppose your

talked again of past pleasures, youthful days, childish sports, and the beautiful but unhappy morning on which we bade a final adieu. And then the big tear came in his eye, and we forgot the past, and looked for a repetition of those days in the future; and when we parted, my pledge of faith and affection was, if he was detained in the camp, I was to meet him there, and there the nuptial band is to be this night tied."

"Yet, surely, you cannot go alone," said Mrs. Grenville, her cheek now suffused in tears, and her hand holding that of her only daughter. "Did Cleveland know of your fears, he could have little affection for you to desire such a trial of your attachment to him. You are yet in the

"Oh, mother, name it not. He is detestable, bloody, cruel-yes, that fiend-like look! it made my blood run cold. But why this delay? The necessities of war do not admit these little punctilios you mention. The dangers you so much dread are but imaginary; but ah, that bloody Sigourney! He has been present in my thoughts, asleep and awake, since he rose so abruptly from my side, and appeared as though by his malice he could blast my peace and innocence." And her lip changed its rosy hue to one of ashy paleness, and she appeared to have a supernatural dread of this officer. But what can conquer woman's affection?

The anxious mother, seeing the fears of her daughter increasing, fondly hoped she might be induced to lay aside for another night her bridal

passing to yonder camp? Oh, I have a fearful presentiment that the legend of future years, shall, with reference to you, call this the night of the death-bride, when all your bloom and beauty sunk to the tomb."

"Oh, mother, mother, that bloody book! do not mention it. The page was coloured with blood-it was I-no, it was Sigourney that was reading it. His hand held it in a mangled condition: there was that same look of malice which he had in the garden. The clotted gore lay over the leaf. It was the musings, the troubles of last night's sleep. Sure, it was my poor brother's fate, I saw written there. But why talk of it? It must have been a vision or some of my love reveries."

bloom of youth. The grief for your only brother This wild and incoherent soliloquy of her has for many years embittered our sweetest mo- daughter, appeared something still more strange

ments of happiness. Many days have passed away since he disappeared among the savages of this wilderness, and can you, contrary to our wishes and your own sense of danger, expose yourself to a similar fate? But why should it so long have escaped my memory-if you must go, and go to-night, we can perhaps obtain the consent of the officer here on guard, to accompany

to her tender mother. Seizing her daughter's hand, she besought her to lay aside at once the fearful bridal. "How can you leave us, to-night; your fears and terrors have overcome your reason. Why talk about the book? What is it you mean? Love and danger have deprived you of your better judgment, that you indulge in such reveries."

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"No, mother, I was mistaken," returned Ma- | and future danger. A young officer was walkria, in the same wild manner as before. "Sure ing majestically, yet with an impatient step, toit was you that was reading. Yes, I remember wards the tent of General St. Clair. He was

now.

We were seated in this parlor, and you, mother, wept as you read. Aye, it must have been my poor brother's fate. It said, The shield of innocence, youth, and loveliness, did not preserve its victim!'-But why talk about such things? It was only a dream-thank God! Yes, but it was a bloody dream. You, mother, mentioned it first. It seems as something which happened long ago. Then, that cold laugh!that could not have been yours. But why linger here talking of imaginary evils? I cannot lay aside this bridal dress, before he has welcomed me with his smile. Before to-morrow's sun shall set, my bright anticipations of happiness shall be realized. Your fears are imaginary."

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This she spoke with a firmness, which was an answer to every objection and persuasion, which a mother's affections could devise. Maria calmly dried the tear which had been stealing down her blooming cheek, and gave vent to no more. The thoughts of a past summer's misery flashed upon her soul; and the cold look and reproachful voice of Cleveland, buoyed her above visionary fears and the remonstrances of tender parents. Her memory turned back to the sleepless nights and cheerless days she passed since she was to have been his bride, and strengthened her resoJution. Throwing a loose robe carelessly over her bridal dress, she took each of her parents by the hand, and the affectionate "good night" reechoed with a low sound from her parental walls. With a light heart and cheerful countenance, the romantic bride set out alone, in the silent night, to fulfil the promise she had give to young and offended lover. Her footsteps bounded along the pathway of the enclosure, where her childish days had been spent. The past appeared all as a visionary scene. The friends and joyful associates of the morning of life, no longer arose in her memory with their former attractiveness. A new world of light and loveliness seemed to rise to her view, in which her fancy painted scenes more pleasing than those of her youth, when gaiety, life, and innocence, mingled in her sports. She was now in the prime of youth and beauty, going by herself in the loneliness of the night, to seek a lover, who, six months ago, left her with tears and imprecations. The tales of classic antiquity came again to her recollection-the ancient days of chivalry, and their romantic stories, revived in her memory with the vividness of reality. "Cleveland shall see, that his misery has not been my desire. The bitterness of his reproach is over, and I am going to receive his smile and be his bride." and Maria's footsteps died away, as her departing form was vanishing in the distance and darkness: and then all was silent as before, save the exclamation which burst from each of her parents-"I fear this night will be an unhappy bri* At the camp the soldiers, were busied as their inclinations directed them. Some were musing over their hard fate, in being led from their peaceful homes on a wilderness warfare. Others were seated around their fires, listening to some strange adventure, or thinking of absent friends

dal."

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young and handsome; his raven hair fell in graceful curls below his military cap, and the light which gleamed from the surrounding fires showed a form manly and bold, and an eye which beamed with intelligence. There was a loftiness in his mein, and an expression of sorrow in his countenance; and as he walked ardently onward, his thoughts seemed occupied by something of intrinsic interest. He endeavored, as he stood in the presence of his general, to conceal the anxiety which preyed upon his mind. "Ah," said St. Clair, in his dignified manner, after the customary forms of politeness had passed between them, "why here at this time? Some strange circumstance, I warrant: you will surely not wish to leave the camp to-night."

Cleveland, for he was the young officer, gave a slight bow, and answered the question by asking, " Have you any more commands, to-night?" "Yes," quickly replied St. Clair, seeming to recollect something unattended to, " I am much pleased that you have come. There is one piece of business, in which I must have your assistance. Sigourney has been here from his post, since sun-set, and gave notice of a party of savages having been seen about three miles to our right." "What? General St. Clair, no Indians so soon. How could they dare attack us here?" "You mistake," replied St. Clair, "It will be savage policy to attack us unexpectedly. Washington's last warning to me was to beware of surprise, in approaching this country. We must not be lulled into security, until savage fury bursts upon us. Every information must be acted upon. It was Sigourney's desire that you, being acquainted with the country, should be appointed to guard in that direction to-night; and my wish is, that you, with your noble band, range without the sentinels, to observe if there be any threatened danger."

The agitation of Cleveland, on the receipt of this intelligence, was only concealed from his general by increased darkness, as he turned from the light, which shone upon his countenance. Had he heard the order for his execution, it would scarcely have been more unexpected or more dreadful. He saw all his plans frustrated in a moment, and his fond anticipations of an evening's happiness suddenly blasted. He had appointed an hour to receive the hand of his bride; with an anxious step he had come to the tent of his general, and before making known his request, the worst intelligence he could have hoped for had been given him. He retired, in silence, with an almost frenzied brain; and directed his way slowly towards a distant part of the camp, undetermined whether to return or proceed. A thousand times he resolved at once to go back, and urge his reasons to be excused; and as often he changed his resolution, and still walked unconsciously onward, as if impelled by some invisible hand. How many were scattered around him, reposing at their ease. Here the jovial song, and there the careless conversation fell upon his ear; all appeared happy and contented, in comparison to the young officer.

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