Antoine Breguet survived him two years. During the first eighteen months, he was never willing to have the image of his lost darling out of sight. The latter part of the time, he often whistled to the bird, and talked to her, and seemed to imagine that she answered him. But with increasing imbecility, Rosabella was forgotten. He sometimes asked, “Who is that young woman?” At last he said, “Send her away. She looks at me.”
The magic-lantern of departing memory then presented a phantom of his wife, dead long ago. He busied himself with making imaginary watches and rings for her, and held long conversations, as if she were present. Afterward, the wife was likewise forgotten, and he was occupied entirely with his mother, and the scenes of early childhood. Finally he wept often, and repeated continually, “They are all waiting for me; and I want to go home.” When he was little more than eighty years old, compassionate angels took the weary pilgrim in their arms, and carried him home.
A SONG.
Hush! hush! Love lies at rest,
Like a bird in her nest,
Like dew in a lily’s breast,
Love is sleeping.
Roses breathe fragrant sighs
Over his drowsy eyes,
But, ah, how still he lies!
Love is sleeping.
Drive the honey-bees away!
Let not the sun’s bright ray
Over his features play!
Love is sleeping.
Lest his slumbers should fly,
Gentle Music draw nigh,
With your sweet lullaby!
Keep him sleeping!
Ha! his cheek grows warm
Under the magic charm,
And he moves his white arm!
Love is dreaming,
His little limbs shiver,
His soft eye-lids quiver,
Like rays on a river:
Love is waking.
UTOUCH AND TOUCHU.
“Nothing left
But what you touch, and not what touches you.”
Leigh Hunt.
“Thou hast the fairy coin, which, in wrong hands
Is merely stones and leaves;—in thine, true gold.”
J. R. Lowell.
It was a bright autumnal day, when two boys went forth to gather nuts. One was keen-eyed and self-important in his gait. The other had mild, deep eyes, and his motions were like flowers swaying to a gentle breeze. Alfred, the keen-eyed, mounted the tree and shook it. “I should like to own a dozen such trees,” said he, “and have all the nuts to myself.”