158 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 



a friend is severed from us. And here again, our cham- 

 pion of Memory's miseries asks in a triumphant tone, 

 Who that has e\er lost a fiiend can find pleasure in re- 

 collections of the past ? We reply that even the gloom 

 which is thus cast upon the mind is not like that of the 

 dreary dungeon, chilling and peimanent ; it is but the 

 darkness of night which is soon to vanish before the 

 beams of morning. The sun of our happiness may be 

 for a time eclipsed, but the daik shadow soon passes 

 away. Although on the page of Memory there may 

 be seen some tales of sadness, yet we \\ould not, we 

 cannot refuse to read them. " \V here is the mother 

 "\\ho would willingly forget the infant that perished 

 "like a blossom fiom her arms, though every recolleo 

 "tion is a pang ! Where is the child that would will- 

 " ingly forget the most tender of parents, though to 

 * remember be but to lament ? Who even in the house 

 "of agony would forget the fiiend over whom he 

 "mounts? Who even when the tomb is closing upon 

 "the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his 

 " heart as it were crushed in the closing of its portal, 

 "would accept of consolation that must be purchased 

 ** by forgetfuJness ? Ko ! the love which survives the 

 "tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul." * 



Still then fond Memory shall thy voice be heard: 

 still shall it soothe me in many a lonely hour. Still 

 shalt thou tell mexrf a father's fondness and a mother's 

 tenderest care, of youthful pleasures and all the joys 

 of early friendship. Or should st thou call me to 

 listen a^ain to the solemn notes of the funeral bell, and 

 bid me drop a tear upon the silent grave, yet shalt thoa 

 tell me too of the virtues, the kindly offices and holy 

 deeds of the friend departed, until the bitterest afflic- 

 tion shall be soothed asunder. 



MEMORY, the good man's friend! the dread tor- 

 mentor of the vicious ! never may that hour be mine at 

 which I cannot hail thee as a welcome guest. F.N.E. 



*See "Royal Funerals " in the "Sketch Book" by Geoffery 

 Crayon. 



