This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1848 edition. Excerpt: ...it sprung Farewell --there was a time my soul had wept To see the radiant Sun of Song go down When 'neath its light the pale-browed Sorrow slept, And Anguish woke not till its rays were gone. But severed now is Music's mystic chain; The eye which marks that lamp of glory wane Shall smile upon its setting, though it riseth not again Farewell thou Lyre so deeply loved of old Thy voice is tuneless, and thy spirit fled. Farewell, each strain that in my breast lies cold Above your rest be Joy's soft silence shed. Yet, though ye die, your memory still is ours, When faint ye breathe along the winged hours, As odors soft arise from graves of buried flowers BLIGHTED HOMES. A TALE. BY MARY LEMAN GILLIES. " For Heaven's sake do not grumble " were, words uttered in a tone which expressed a sorely oppressed heart. The speaker was a young man, dressed in a fustian suit of working clothes, which though coarse were clean, and could not disguise a fine form. His countenance was mild, grave, and open; his voice deep and touching, possessing those inflexions which belong to strong feeling and a certain degree of cultivation. The woman beside him was a little compact creature, with a pretty face, and piercing black eyes; particularly neat in her attire, and quick in her movements, by which she was every now and then in advance of her companion, whose steady, equal pace knew no deviation. These people were husband and wife, and were returning home together in discourse more earnest than agreeable--one of those events which, in the fluctuations of trade, from time to time occur--a reduction of wages--had tried the temper of the one, and touched the feelings of the other. George and Martha Robinson had been six years married. Their union had been a rare...