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ANNIE DE VERE.

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ANNIE DE VERE.

CHAPTER I.

I never spoke the word · farewell,

But with an utterance faint and broken,
A heart-sick yearning for the time

When it shall never more be spoken."

“Partings! farewells ! a chord stronger or weaker, says a modern writer, is snapped asunder in every parting; and time's busy fingers are not practised in resplicing broken ties. Meet again we may; will it be in the same way? with the same sympathies ? with the same sentiments ?” Events like these cast a tinge of sadness upon our daily path.

· Come, Emily, into the garden ; this is the last evening we shall spend together!”

Thus spake a tall handsome girl, fashionably dressed, and striking in her appearance, to her school-fellow whose light curly hair and simple toilet formed a contrast to that of her friend. The two girls were now about to separate, after a two years' sojourn at a boarding school in C-School-friendship is ardent—there is often a close bond of union wherever it subsists; there are the same hopes, the same aspirations, the same desires; and when the times arrive that the friends must part, each to her respective

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