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Sljc (Cam&cn Journal. VOLUME II. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, FEBRUARY 15, 1&50. NUMBER 13. {tactical department. For the Camden Journal. THE TIME TO DIE. Oh! I would die while youth and hope Are glittering ou my brow, And smiles of gentle ecstasie, Like those e'en beaming now; I would not wait till darkling cares Had shed their snows around; And not one flower of youthful hope Upon the heart be found; I would not wait till life had prov'd That friendship 's but a name, And left but ashes on the heart Where once there burned a flame. I would not stay where flower's fade? Where howls the winter's vviud,? But I would seek a fairer land, And leave them all behind;? Where gentler hopes and sweeter songs, And flowers of fragrant breath, And hopes like suidight on the soul, Know nought of grief or death. O* Tlio following beautiful lineR and llio accompanying introduction, were handed to the N. O. Crea veil, IIUIM ?>nvn |?|"" "V ?IV* "Lady E. S. Worlley, a tiled from Mobile a few day* since in the steamer Walker, for Vera Cruz, en route for the city of Mexico. This noble and distin gui.shed lady is the daughter of the Duke of Rutland, | and i* remarkable for her liberal and enlightened views, Iteing entirely free from the absurd prejudices of the I Old Woiid. She expresses liorst-lf delighltd with Auierici?above all with the grand scenery of the North and West. She say* ' the Americans arc indeed worthy of being tlte inhabitants of such a glori ttus laud.' Lady Emetine is celebrated fur her spirit of inquiry, which has led Iter into Asia and Africa, after passing through Hungary, Turkey, and Northern and Western Eurojto. She coine* hither to add a knowledge of our country to her acquaintance with the countries of licr native hemisphere. She is nc companiod by her daughter?a lively girl of twelve. Ilic god daughter ot t^uccn Vietorin, ?in<?! uutne sue loars. 4 After visiting the city of M<-xico, hIic proposes directing her fouls'eps to South America, and thence to the islands of tl?e Wc*t Indies,' May piosperity and happiness attend her in all her wanderings." Wund'rcrs! whose feet, like cninc, ncVr pross'd before This proud, magnificently valorous shore? Wand'rers! who spoed from many a distant tone To gaze on Nature's trans Atlantic throne? Ne'er lightly viow the thousand seems sublime Of great America's resplendent clime, But still, in thoughtful mood's observant care, Weigh well the mingling glories there, Since all the loftier wonders of the land Are most admired?when host ye understand ! It is a grfbiou* rludy for the soul, As, pari hy part, the heav'n-stamped leaves unroll; Not only all majestic Nature here Speak* to each kindling thought, but, far nod near, A large and mighty meaning bccms to lurk, A ?furious inirul is every where nl work ! A bold, grand spirit, rules and reigns around, And sanctifies the common uir and ground, And glorifies llii! lowliest hero arid alone Willi living lints and touches of its own; A spirit over flashing back tlio sun, That scorns each prize while aught is lo,be won, More boundless than the prairie's verdurous sweep, \Jl III OIU AllilliUVB lung rVMIUIIUIIIK ??VT|?, Anil mote luxuriunt than the forest's crowd. Of patriarch trues by weightiest foliage bow'd? More ricli than California's teeming tnolJ, Whose hoarded sunbeams laugh to living goldMore soaring, far, than th' immemorial hills? M >rs fresh and flowing than their strenns and rills? That mind, of quenchless energy and power, [hoar? Which springs from strength to strength, hour after *i ..... ..i . j :. _i : ... i man b giuriuu.s illiiiU) in 11* iiiosi gionnu* muou, Tliat seems for aye, on every side to brood, la this empurpled and exultant laud, So gladly bowed beneath it* bright commund? Mau'a glorious tnlnd, on ila moot glorious march? High-spanning earth, like heaven'* own rainbow arch ; Thai soul, that mind, 'tis everywhere revealed ! ! ?i.~ : !.. ?..i* ?.i i? ii n cruw iin uiu lb gnus mo cuuuru ucia, ll charms the wild, and paves the rushing stream, And scarce allows the sun a vagrant beam. Illumes the rugged noil of rocks, and flings From seas to seas the shadow of its wings, (And Time und Space in that grcut Shadow rest, And watch to serve their ruler-snn's behest.) ylnd still its growing, gathering influence spreads, And still abroad its owu great life it sheds. O'er mount and lake, cataract, field and flood, O'er rock and cave and isle, and plain and wood, li live9.it lightens, and in might inspires Each separate scene with fresh creative fires. Where'er it moves a wondering world awakes, And still all Nature's face its likeness likes; It quickens still, andkiudlcs, and pervades Her startled deserts and receding shudes, llcr mightiest solitudes and parks unknown, Iler hidden shrines and well-springs pure nnd lone ; Hung?as the heavens are hung above them all, And holding their sublimcst powers in llirull! I "WW? Tub South United.?Throughout the South now, it may he said, there is a unanimous and vn/1 rlntAnnitt'ifSnn tn rnc5e< tlwa iirirmicutt'n Utitt*lf of the anti-slavery crusade of the North. In the interior of our States there is no difference of opinion?at least, none apparent, and very little latent. In our cities,occasionally maybe found a man who, from early education or some other cause, hesitates?but compared with the uggre gate of our j>eople, this ch.-s is so small and insignificant, that it Is uoi accessary to he taken at all into account iu c ti outing the condition of affairs. The South, for the first time in its history, is united, and fiom this union we expect the most salutary results. Had there l>eeii the ?. *. -i- i n winie unanimity ten years ago, io-uay wiuum have been free front the vexations and destructive anti-union sentiments which are now rainfallt in the North. Alabama Tribune. Sclc itei> ?nlc. A VENETIAN STORY. CONCLUDED. Trafibrd felt there could never have existed a mortal so happy since the days of Eden and its single |>air; and Nina was happy too, though she more submitted to his adoration than enjoyed it for her own satisfaction. There were moments when Trafibrd doubted her love, and, at such times; lie would leave her to wander about alone in the morbid abstracts which she could never comprehend, and very much dreaded at every fresh return. They returned to Venice. They had been married a vear. and Trafibrd looked forward 11 with fondest affections to the hope of having a child of Nina's in his amis in July. He found a woman had been engaged to attend her?recommended by her cousin, Madame dc Fleuranges. It seemed the cousins still corresponded. Nina spoke of her with affection; quite unconscious, evidently, of Trafford's previous engagement to her. lie had been equally silent, of course; and thus Nina never imagined they had seen each other,?except, indeed, that evening driving quickly away from Saint Cloud she and Madame de Fleuranges had left Paris next day for Burgundy, where she staid a fortnight at the Chateau de Fleuranges, and from thence she had returned to Venice. She had, of course, written to Madame de Fleuranges, to announce her marriage to an Englishman by the name of Traff'ord. The latter lady had sent her a kind, short answer, and they had hardly exchauged letters since. The life of Trafford and Nina passed on like a dream more than a reality. He possessed the one he had so long and so faithfully sought and worshiped. He taught her to speak his own language, and even to sing some of the airs he loved best The melancholy sweetness of her voice was one of her chiefest charms. In the long evenings she sat at his side, singing the music he loved to hear?that of the masters he preferred to all others, Haydn and Mozart. With infinite pains to please him, she learned some of the sweet eanzonets of the former?" My Mother bids me bind my Hair,"?"She never told her Love," and the matchless Spirit Song, which, in after years, he mourned over in memory as a tyj>e of one deeply loved and early lost Nina was delivered of a son, still born; bIic was doing well herself. Trafford sat at her side: it was near midnight, He looked at lie.* as she lay. She was not sleeping; her large, wakeful eyes were raised to his. Hi?r hand was bnniinrr huf tior rmlsp sinkimr B, ?. I 0-_ " Gualtier"?so she transformed his name into her own soft language?"Gualtier, damtni la tua cara inano!" Traflurd laid his hand on her palm; she raised it to her lips. A sudden sense of agonizing fear shot through the heart of TraH'ord. He looked at the attendant who sat near; in the dim light lie could not distinguish her face. Nino spoke, but in a voice so faint that he could hardly hear what she said. " C'ielo, si muore!" said the woman, in con- 1 sternation. "Non incro, vado in cielo!" murniured the dying Venetian. " Gualtier, ti rivedio?si?ora 1 pro me " 1 She died an instant after pronouncing the last words. 1 The woman crossed herself, cried, and said to Trafford, who stood like a stone, incapable 1 of understanding, apparently, the full horror of lib loss,? 1 "Emorra! Pregliiaino per essa! 1 Trafford threw himself in distraction on the 1 form of the object he loved so truly. His was 1 the frenzied grief of one without ho|>c, in this world or the next. So sudden, so awful, liad ' been the wrench from all he prized on earth, that his mind?ill-regulated, impassioned to the 1 verge of madness?gavfe way, and for six weeks 1 he was quite deranged. ' He woke up to reason and misery, to which ' his very insanity seemed preferable. Without 1 a sun, without a star, how, oh! how was he, ; most miserable, to drag on the weary years of an existence stripped bare of cverv charm and i every hopet lie continued to live in Venice. From the ' home oi'iSiiia he would not, he could not, dc- '< part. Every stone of the old palace was to him i sacred, as having been once in the vicinity of Nina. Adored when with him, she was wor- 1 shipped now that she was gone. Miserable in mind and body, every energy extinct, Trafford, 1 many and many a time, determined to put an end to a life he could no longer endure. He would go to the grave of his lost love; there would he lay his noble head 011 the stone, and 1 watch and weep, like a child more than a man, over the spot where slept the remains of his beloved Nina. The jH'Ople of the city, who knew him by sight, believed him to be mad; and few could have doubted it who saw the solitary figtiro wi'Miiiwwl in ;i 1tl'W>Lr olnnl/ nrltrln rnnrnlnrlv* ...v, ... .. each morning from the landing place, and spend his days in the cemetery, as if ho there communed with the living, and not with the dead. "She dead! she dead!" would Traflord exclaim to himself, as he sat alone in the starlight nights near Nina's grave. "'She is not dead, hut sleepeth." Where are those words? Oh, my (Jod! Had I but died! What had she done ? Heaven! so young, so tender, so helpless! She dead ! Why insult my grief with that word?? M v eves no longer see?these arms no longer 4 %/ clasp, but yet from above can she descend like a dream to calm this wretched heart. With nie! Still with me?still with me! Mine?mine, forever, as once you were, dearest I?only shir of the life so dark and dismal now! lint here shall I take my rest by day, my dream by night? Space and Time may divide us, but, once mine here, eternity cannot tear asunder the chain that binds us still! No, no, Nina! My Nina,wher ever in the vast unknown you may be, still you arc the same Nina that loved me once! I the same Wretch that now crouch in misery over your early grave With tears?with groans?with cries, in the silent watches of the night, Trafford continued to mourn and wail over the one whose sun had set before its time. He would never leave Venice. Months and months rolled on, and still Trafford lamented wildly over his loss. It was in the spring of 1824, two years or more, since the death of Nina, that Trafford was accosted one day in St Mark's Place by an old English friend. Trevor was an agreeable com panion, and a kind-hearted man. He compassionated the state of Trafford, and persevered in seeing a good deal of him. He visited him, and went one evening into his room to sit for an hour or two with him. He spoke, at last of Trafford's loss. Trafford sat, his hands clasped, liis eyes streaming? "She was an angel?too much foi\me to keep! Oh, Heaven, to recall one hour of those days? one line, one look, of that face, is more than my heart can bear!" "Haveyou any likeless?" said Trevor. "No, no," said Trafford, mournfully, "I never thought of it! Oh, had I but one likeness, I could look at it now, perhaps! 1 have only this!" He shewed, wound round his wrist a thick braid of raven hair, clasped with gold. He held out his arm uncovered, then kissed the relic passionately, and then again hid it with the sleeve of his-cout. He was perfectly insane still, Trevor thought, as he looked at him, moping and crouching gloomily over the fire they had lighted, for the evening was chill: it was the end of February. In the course of conversation, Trevor spoke of some mesmeric experiments then being made by one of the doctors in the town. A Greek of the name of Panarmo was said to be endowed with wonderful nowers of magnetism. Traf ford's wild, excitable imagination was interested. That night, unknown to Trevor, he went The entertainment ? or what shall 1 call it?? was held in a large, deserted room, in one of the oldest palazzos, then for sale. The Greek was mesmerising a young girl.? The light was dim; a crowd of pale and dark anxious faces lined the room. Trafl'ord sat in a comer unobserved. He listened: at last he rose, approached, and spoke to Panarmo. The hand of Trafl'ord was laid on the breast of the sleeper. She muttered, and at last said? InfuItoA ci mnrvro 99 "Ma perche?" said Punarmo. " Di duolo," said the girl. "E il rimedio?" inquired Panarmo. " Ah!" the sleeper moaned. " Ci son due." "Dito pure." . #! She was silent " La puzzia o la morte, lo guarira." A shudder ran through the circle. Trafford went homo. Every night he attended the mesmeric lectures. He liked the mystery?the supernatural excitement of that dark chamber in the old palace. On that dark and mystical subject, mesmerism, I cannot write beyond the facts that have come to my knowledge; but, in this " world of wonders," it apj>ears to mo that the power thus imparted is not a whit more wonderful than that which sends the words of one man flying to the ears of another from the north to the south of England in a few moments. True, one is ex plicable and the other is not; hut the curtain, may be it is only us yet half raised from the scene where we can see but the most striking and evident of the marvels yet to be develojied. It has been said that man now stands on the threshold of discoveries known to and misused by the antediluvians; that the vast powers they held, uided by infernal agency, would have thrown down the barriers between the visible and invisible world; that for this vory reason* was it necessary to efface from the corrupt mind of man the knowledge?" the science of the abyss"?that gave him powers he only used to his own eternal destruction. Now tliat the daystar of Christianity hus arisen, as it shall "shine more and more unto the jierfeet day," so shall Science unveil again her face, hidden awhile, and man once more possess the secrets of the mystical science of body and spirits, and eat "the angel's food" of the full perfection of knowledge. The night Traflbrd went to Panarmo's lecture: it was the time of the Carnival. Venice was full of masques and gayety. In that still room there was little sign, however, of the revelry without. In a corner sat the figure of a lady, wnipjied in a long dark mantle. Her face Traflbrd could not see,yet was there something in her air that attracted hiiu. Traflbrd rose and approached the sleeper whom Panarmo hud mesmerised. Again his hand was laid on her breast. The sleeper moaned. Again the words? "Ci son due,due; la puzzia o lu morte." The figure in the corner listened, and rose as Traflord turned away. He lingered for one moment. He heard the words? "Non sperar, piange sempre," addressed to the lady. That night, on going home, Traflord found a note on his table. It was in a hand he hud never seen exactly, and yet It was anonymous. He was told to be at the masquerade of the Feniee (the Oj>era-house) the following night, at wild nn.'i command: no inducement wus given. Traflbrd went He went, tempted by the very thing which would have made most men stay away. He put on a black maskand dark green domino. lie wandered about in the pit, wearied,yet looking for some one he' ? - A -J n* lintir nr expt?('l?U lO Bt't* III" Alien iivw nnj , vi nv??> w? when. At last a mask tapped him lightly on theann: he turned quickly. The figure w?6 wrapped in a black dornino; and, Contrary to custom, wore a white satin mask. The arms were folded under its mantle. Trafford spoke; the figure waved its head, and said, "Gualtier!" He almost screamed. It was the name Nina alone had used; none other had ever called him so. The voice made him almost faint I shall translate the following: ii r. 1 i .hi ii lb lung bince we nave men She spoke low: it was a woman. "Long!" said Trafford. "There is that in your voice?that Heaven! am I mad, in- 1 deed?" i He clenched his hands. " That speaks of a summer night at Saiut 1 Cloud, Gualter." ' " Do not dare?do not dare, mask, to repeat 1 that name!" The mask laughed?that mocking laugh.? > Trafford sank on a seat " The nights are cold where I live, but you ' will not yet forsake me quite? Ora pro me!" * The holy words, sanctified by the awful mean- i ing they had once conveyed to him, froze his blood. He moved away; the mask sped after 1 him. 1 " What want von?" he cried, tiirnin/r round. i 14 Love!" replied the mask. ? Trafford shuddered. * "Mine lies low," he muttered. The mask t shook its head. " You are enraging a desperate t man with your foolery!" 1 The masked laughed, and laid its dull and < hard fingers on his trembling hand. He drew < back. < "You wear it still!" said the mask. " What ?" gasped Trafford. 8 The mask made a movement, as if to describe < her own long hair. " Fnnl! wretcli'" nr'iaA TrnfTnrd in n pnnvnl- t sion of rage and dismay. i " Hard names, Gaultiero moi!" a She laid her hand on his arm. He grasped it * " This instant unmask!" She replied calmly: " You were wont to be gentler." Then she drew near, and, in a voice like that of the dy- v ing, she said, " Dammi la tua cara mano!" v They were words engraven on the heart of a the listener as the last of Nina. , " Unmask!" he gasped. t " You would not wish to see my face ?" j, " U niuask!" persisted Trafford. v "Here? No,the interview must be ore of ^ closed doors, between long parted lovers." ? " Earth holds not my love now !" said Traf- r ford. v " The mask sang, in the peculiar English p Nina had learned to use, from Haydn's Spirit v Song? j " All jrcnsive and alone I saw ll?ce sit and weep, e Thy head upon the atone whore my cold ashes sleep." j "Follow nte!" said Trafford, in the most t dreadful state of agitation. The mask did so. They went quickly through j the crowd; tliey swiftly passed the lighted cor- t ridors, and went into a side-rooin, illuminated r only by one lamp. On their way they met Tre- j vor. He was unmasked, but did not recognise t Trafford. At last they were alone. The figure 6tood motionless. j ^ Skiinolr I cnnnlr f nviJuitt nr T mt'tll nur rnn OJ/V-lltt. v-^uuu, w. ? ..." J"" a limb from limb! How dare you thus insult a <j broken hearti Unmask!" " Again 1 warn you, ask it not!" j. " L nmask!" shouted Trafford, " or I will tear v the accursed thing from you face!" t "Prepare, then!" e "I am ready." t " Gualtier!" sighed the mask. " Heaven!" cried TrafTord, every limb sha- ? king, liis heart vibrating, till he thought it would v burst. " You would not wish to see my face?" " Idiot, unmask!" q The figure waved its hand, as if to quiet him, and slowly raised the white mask. Traflord ' started forward, looked, and, with a yell of an- ^ guish, fell on the floor in a faint! When he came to himself, he found a crowd T round him. Trevor held his head. J; " What is it ??where am I ? She! she!" He tried to rise. "My dear Traflord," said Mr. Trevor, "you 11 must go home. You are in a brain fever, I verily believe. There's no one here." "She!?search for "her!?search for her!" shrieked Traflord. " She is in black! a wliite ^ mask ?a wliite mask!" s He stopped, and fell down again in a faint. The search was made; the white mask was ^ traced; she had been seen to enter the gondola ot a man Known loone 01 uie waiters 01 me Hotel de l'Europe. The gondolier was called a on. It was late, or rather early in the morning. The Opera-house was deserted, the crowds 1 of masquers departing, when Trevor found the { man near the landing-place of the Opera-house. " You rowed away a mask V' said Trevor. f " Oh, many an one to-night!" said the gon- 1 dolier. ? "One in a white mask ?" said Trevor. r " Yes," said the gondolier. ' 1" Wu' " rjiJH Twivnr " horo nrn five < Incuts if '> you'll toll me where she went to." 1 " Your Excellent will laugh at me." "Not 1. Toll me." "Well, then, she ordered me to take her to the gate of the burial-ground: there she landed. 1 was in a fine flight, but I watched' her. She t laid this in my hand, and darted in among the ] grave-stones. By the light of the moon, it was t behind the tablet of the Englishman's wife? g that one with a cross and an ungel above t the grave?that she sank down!" J The man crossed himself.- Trevor gave him j the money, and went home. TIk? next day he i went to see 1 raftorck fie was quite deranged, i and in that hopeless state lie remained until he { died, about six years after, iu an asylum near 1 London. 1 A year after his miserable death, a priest was 1 summoned one night to the side of a dying woman. She was in the last agonies, and her recital was broken and unconnected, but this he gathered : She had loved an Englishman, she said, as few could have guessed her capable of loving. In him hpp whnlp affpptinnn urora hnnnrl Sha had discovered early in their acquaintance, that another a younger connexion, had made a deeper impression than herself on a romantic and half-crazed imagination. The union with this Englishman had been broken off by his discovering her falsehood with respect to the one he really adored. He went to Venice, married her rival, and thus deprived her of all hope but that of revenge. Yet had she kept up, through an unsuspected channel?a servant?a most perfect acquaintance with every circumstance of Trafford's married life. The wife had written accurate descriptions of their proceedings,? vvnat ue iiKea, wnat sne cua to please him; in fact, all the small details interesting Cd a friend, such as the Englishman's wife believed she liad n the penitent now confessing her former sins. The last hours, the last words, of the dying wife had been faithfully described, and as faithfully remembered by the deserted wonan whom the perfidy of her lover had driven learly to distraction. Yet?yet she loved him; ind, after his wife's death, went to Venice, lived here unseen bv him. and sought hv evprv means o find out if he still mourned the dead as deepy as ever. By means that she hardly dared to' sonfess, she ascertained that his heart was, inleed, still buried in the grave of Nina. Then :ame the hour of revenge. She went to the theatre, masked; beneath he wore her own face and head encased in that >f a skull. In the Opera-house she waylaid rrafford, used the terms of ghastly endearment hat had so horrified him; and at last, by unveilng, had secured, indeed, the revenge she deired, by making the man she loved a raving naniac for the rest of his days. THE CONJURER OUT-CONJURED. The other morning, says the Reveille, we vere thinking of something infernal, when in valked Signior Blitz, looking us full in die face; it the same time, from beyond that shadowy loud and whisker in which he envelopes his saanic countenance. We were very good friends/ nstanter, spite of hoof or brimstone, and wo* v ere just about to surrender ourselves in wonler and admiration at the way in which the >i?rnior coniured coin into our Dockets, and. nore mysterious still, out of our pockets, when vho should pop in but De Meyer, with his liou >ort and kid-like courtesy. Here was another ictim for the arch enemy, and accordingly Jlitz began to play the devil with the musician, tven as he had done with us. De Meyer stood t for some time, in high admiration, when he xclaimed: " Fell I ham surprise at noting else peside! S ow, Monsieur Pleetz, I fill show some homboirs oo." He forthwith tore a small strip from the nargin of a newspaper, which, again, he divided nto six very small pieces, and spread them on lie palm of his hand " Now, Monsieur Pleetz, I vas desire to know f you can give von pouf (puff) wis you mout/ ind blow away all dise leetle beets, except von lat I shall show you." The magician studied the problem closely/ tut to puff away, at a breath, live of the pieces, vithout stirring the sixth, was enough to puzzle he devil himself, and so his disciple gave up/ arnestly desiring to be informed as to tne ait of he matter. ? " Ferry veil, I show you," said Dc Meyer. Now, den, vat piece shall I keep on my hand vhen I pouf?" lUitz pointed out tho very centre piece. "Oh, dat is him; goot! Now, regardtts Fhe impromptu conjurer deliberately laid his encil point upon the bit of paper designated,;ave a " pouf" and, sure enough, the other five lieces left his hand iu a hurry !' There was a great laugh at the expense of llitz; he, however, immediate^ got rid of the 1 sell" by disposing of it to our " Senior," whd ntered at the moment, and who, by the bve, is iow iu the market with it! " Hev, hey! what's that ? where, allow mo o ask, arc you going at this time of tho night, dr. Snippe!" cried a lady, in nofes of ominous harpness. " Out," responded Snippe, with a heart-broen expression, like an atiiicted mouse. " Out, indeed! whore's out, I'd like to know? there's out, that you prefer it to'thc comfortble pleasures of your own fireside?" "Out nowhere in particular, but everywhere ei general, to see what's going on. Everybody ;oes out, Mrs. Snippe, after tea, they do." " No, Mr. Snippe, every body don't?do I go iut, Mr. Snippe, without being able to say where am going too? No, Mr. Snippe, you are not foing out to frolic, and smoke, and drink, and iot round, upon my money. If you go out, I'll out too. Hut you're not going out. Give ne that hat, Mr. Snippe, and do you sit down here, quietly, like a sober, respectable man," \md Snippe did. A STRIKING THOUGHT. " The death of a man's wife,'" says Lamar ine " is like cutting down an ancient oak that laslong saved the family mansion. Henceforth he glare of the world, with its cares and vicisiitudes, fall upon the old widower's heart, and here is nothing to break their force or shield lint from the full weight of misfortune. It is is if his right hand was withered?as if one ivrng of his eagle was broken, and every movement that he made only brought him to the 'round. His eyes are dim and glassy, and iv-hon tlit* film of death fulls over him. ho misses those accustomed tones which might have soothed his pass to the grave."