Where’er his wildest wish might urge,
Within creation’s utmost verge.
Sunday, Nov. 15. One of the most beautiful ladies in Monterey has this day been consigned to the silent grave. She was in the bloom of life, and visions of happiness threw their enchantments along the vista of her future years. She had all that wealth and beauty can bestow. Her personal charms were rivalled only by those of her mind. Her heart trembled through every fibre of her frame.
“Whene’er with soft serenity she smiled,
Or caught the orient blush of quick surprise,
How sweetly mutable, how brightly wild,
The liquid lustre darted from her eyes!
Each look, each motion, waked a new-born grace,
That o’er her form a transient glory cast:
Some lovelier wonder soon usurped the place,