"On the deep retiring shore In the griefs of Long-ago. "Tombs where lonely love repines, "Tho' the doom of swift decay Still the weight will find a leaven, SUBTERRANEAN FOREST. An immense subterranean forest, of which even tradition preserves no account, lies buried under a part of the fens between Lincoln and Boston, although its existence is almost unknown, except to the thinly scattered population of the district. The soil consists mainly of rotten wood, mixed with a sort of earthy deposite, evidently left by the subsidence of a large body of water. On passing a lately ploughed piece, a stranger is surprised by observing heaps of wood, many loads to the acre, piled up over its surface, as if a crop of huge black logs had succeeded to the previous one of corn. These have been torn up by the plough, and it is singular that after forty years of tillage, the yield of those logs in many places continues as great as ever. The occupiers ascribe the phenomenon to the gradual rising of the forest, which lies prostrated a foot or two under ground, though it is probably caused by the sinking of the top soil, into a boggy substratum, which is called the sock. The trees force themselves up entire, announcing their approach to the surface by the decay of all verdure above them. When a farmer observes this indication, he digs down and removes the trees from its bed of centuries, and is frequently well rewarded for his trouble. The trees are all oak, and are frequently of dimensions which would almost stagger belief. Some years ago the writer of this article saw one taken up, which contained no less than 1440 cubic feet of timber; and so recently as the winter of 1836, he removed another, the bole alone of which contained nearly 1000 feet. The wood of these gigantic monarchs of the forest, when first bared, is sodded with moisture and apparently rotten; but, after a short exposure to the air, becomes so hard that none but the most tempered tools will touch it. It is nevertheless worked into rails and fencing, because the grain is so straight that it rends like a reed. Many gentlemen in the neighborhood, have a few plain articles of furniture manufactured out of it, as matters of curiosity, as in time it becomes not only as hard, but as black as ebony, and is capable of the highest polish. Every tree is either plucked up from its roots, or snapped short about three feet from them; and all appear to have fallen very much in the same way. It is probable that at some distant date, an irruption of the sea may have done the havoc, aided, perhaps, by one of those tornadoes which even now, in a milder degree, are occasionally experienced thereabounts.-Stamford Mercury. LIFE IN DEATH. [The groundwork of this tale will be recognized by the reader.] "Who shall deny the mighty secrets hid In Time and Nature?" "But can you not learn where he sups?" asked this dying man, for at least the twentieth time; while the servants again repeated the same monotonous answer-"Lord, sir, we never know where our young master goes." "Place a time-peace by the bed-side, and leave me." None was at hand; when one of the assembled group exclaimed-"Fetch that in Mr. Francis's room." It was a small French clock, of exquisite workmanship, and a golden Cupid swung to and fro,-fit emblem for the light and vain hours of its youthful proprietor, but a strange mockery beside a death-bed! Yet the patient watched it with a strange expression of satisfaction, mingled, too, with anxiety, as the glittering hands pursued their appointed round. As the minutes passed on, an ejaculation of dismay burst from Mr. Saville's lips: he strove to raise his left hand with a gesture of impatience; he found it powerless too; the palsy, which had smitten his right side, had now attacked the left. "A thousand curses upon my evil destiny-I am lost." At this moment the time-piece struck four, and began to play one of the popular airs of that day; while the cord on which the Cupid was balanced moved, modulated by the fairy-like music. "He comes!" almost shrieked the palsied wretch, making a vain effort to rise on his pillow. As if the loss of every other sense had quickened that of hearing seven fold, he heard the distant tramp of horses, and the ring of wheels, on the hard and frosty road. The carriage stopped; a young man, wrapped in furs, sprang out, opened the door with his own key, and ran up the stairs, gaily singing, "They may rail at this earth: from the hour I began it, I have found it a world full of sunshine and bliss; More social and bright, I'll content me with this." "Good God, sir, don't sing-your father's dying!" exclaimed the servant who ran to meet him. The youth was silenced in a moment; and, pale and breathless, sprang towards the chamber. The dying man had no longer power to move a limb: the hand which his son took was useless as that of the new-born infant; yet all the anxiety and eagerness of life was in his features. "I have much to say, Francis; see that we are alone.” "I hope my master does not call this dying like a Christian," muttered the housekeeper as she withdrew. "I hope Mr. Frances will make him send for a priest, or at least a doctor. People have no right to go out of the world in any such heathen manner.' The door slammed heavily, and father and son were left alone. "Reach me that casket," said Mr. Saville, pointing to a curiously carved Indian box of ebony. Francis obeyed the command, and resumed his kneeling position by the bed. "By the third hand of that many armed image of Vishnu is a spring, press it forcibly." The youth obeyed and the lid flew up, within was a very small glass phial containing a liquid of delicate rose color. The white and distorted countenance of the sufferer lighted up with a wild unnatural joy. "Oh youth, glad beautiful youth, art thou mine again, shall I once more rejoice in the smile of woman, in the light of the red wine cup, shall I delight in the dance, and in the sound of music?" "For heaven's sake compose yourself," said his son, who thought that his parent was seized with sudden insanity. "In truth I am mad to waste breath so precious!-Listen to me, boy! A whole. existence is contained in that little bottle; from my earliest youth I have ever felt a nameless horror of death, death yet more loathsome than terrible: you have seen me engrossed by lonely and mysterious studies, you knew not that they were devoted to perpetual struggle with the mighty conquerer-and I have succeeded. That phial contains a liquid which rubbed over my body, when the breath has left it seemingly for ever, will stop the progress of corruption, and restore all its pristine bloom and energy. Yes, Francis, I shall rise up before you like your brother. My glorious secret! how could I ever deem life wasted in the search? Sometimes when I have heard the distant chimes tell the hour of midnight, the hour of others' revelry or rest, I have asked, is not the present too mighty a sacrifice to the future; had I not better enjoy the pleasures within my grasp? but one engrossing hope led me on; it is now fulfilled. I return to this world with the knowledge of experience, and the freshness of youth; I will not again give myself up to feverish studies and eternal experiments. I have wealth unbounded, we will spend it together, earth holds no luxury which it shall deny us." The dying man paused, for he observed that his son was not attending to his words, but stared as if his gaze was spell-bound by the phial which he held. "Francis," gasped his father. "There is very little," muttered the son, still eyeing the crimson fluid. The dews rose in large cold drops on Saville's forehead-with a last effort he raised his head, and looked into the face of his childthere was no hope there; cold, fixed, and cruel, the gentleness of youth seemed suddenly to have passed away, and left the stern features rigid as stone; his words died gurgling in the throat, his head sank back on the pillow, in the last agony of disappointment, despair and death. A wild howl filled the chamber, and Francis started in terror from his knee; it was only the little black terrier which had been his father's favorite. Hastily he concealed the casket, for he heard the hurrying steps of the domestics, and rushing past them, sought his own room, and locked the door. All were struck by his altered and ghastly looks. 99 "Poor child," said the housekeeper, "I do not wonder he takes his father's death so to heart, for the old man doated on the very ground he trod upon. Now the holy saints have mercy upon us,' exclaimed she, making the sign of the cross, as she caught sight of the horrible and distorted face of the deceased. Francis passed the three following days in the alternate stupor and excitement of one to whom crime is new, and who is nevertheless resolved on its commission. On the evening of the fourth, he heard a noise in the room where the corpse lay, and again the dog began his loud and doleful howl. He entered the apartment, and the two first men he saw were strangers, dressed in black with faces of set solemnity; they were the undertakers, while a third in a canvass apron, and square paper cap, was beginning to screw down the coffin, and while so doing, was carelessly telling them how a grocer's shop, his next-door neighbor's had been entered during the night, and the till robbed.. 66 You will leave the coffin unscrewed till to-morrow," said the heir. The man bowed, asked the usual English question which suits all occasions, of "Something to drink, sir?" and then left young Saville to his meditations. Strange images of death and pleasures mingled together; now it was a glorious banquet, now the gloomy silence of a church-yard: now bright and beautiful faces seemed to fill the air, then by a sudden transition they became the cadaverous relics of the charnel-house. Some clock in the neighborhood struck the hour, it was too faint for Francis to hear it distinctly, but it roused him; he turned towards the little time-piece, there the golden cupid sat motionless, the hands stood still, it had not been wound up; the deep silence around told how late it was; the fire was burning dead, the candles were dark with their large unsnuffed wicks, and strange shadows, gigantic in their proportions, flitted round the room. "Fool that I am to be thus haunted by a vain phantasy. My father studied overmuch; his last words might be but the insane ravings of mind overwrought. I will know the truth." Again his youthful features hardened into the gladiatorial expression of one grown old in crime and cruelty. Forth he went and returned with the Indian casket, he drew a table towards the coffin, placed two candles upon it, and raised the lid: he started, some one touched him; it was only the little black terrier licking his hand, and gazing up in his face with a look almost human in its affectionate earnestness. Francis put back the shroud, and then turned hastily away, sick and faint at the ghastly sight. The work of corruption had begun, and the yellow and livid streaks awoke even more disgust than horror. But an evil purpose is ever strong; he carefully opened the phial, and with a steady hand, let one drop fall on the eye of the corps. He closed the bottle, replaced it in the casket, and then, but not till then, looked for its effect. The eye, large, melancholy, and of that deep violet blue, which only belongs to early childhood, as if it were too pure and too heavenly for duration on earth, had opened, and full of life and beauty was gazing tenderly upon him. A delicious perfume filled the air; ah, the old man was right! Others had sought the secret of life in the grave, and the charnel-house; he had sought it amid the warm genial influences of nature; he had watched the invigorating sap bringing back freshness to the forest tree; he had marked the subtle spring wakening the dead root and flower into bloom-the essence of a thousand existences was in that fragile crystal. The eye now turned anxiously toward the casket, then with a mute eloquence toward the son; it gazed upon him so pitiously, he saw himself mirrored in the large clear pupil; it seemed to implore, to persuade, and at last, the long soft lash glistened, and tears, warm bright tears, rolled down the livid cheek. Francis sat and watched with a cruel satisfaction; a terrible expression of rage kindled the eye like fire, then it dilated with horror, and then glared terribly with despair. Francis shrank from the fixed and stony gaze. But his very terror was selfish. "It must not witness against me," rushed into his mind. He seized a fold of grave clothes, crushed the eye in the socket, and closed the lid of the coffin. A yell of agony rose upon the silent night. Francis was about to smite the howling dog, when he saw that it lay dead at his feet. He hurried with his precious casket from the chamber, which he never entered again. Years have |