NATURE AND HER HARMONIES. 
53 
song of yon more favored twain ! Can lie be glad with all 
his misery, his piteous unrecking shame upon him ? 
Here we reluctantly pause. A voice from the printer — 
No more space ! all closed !" falls like a sudden shower upon 
the thin wings of our " Eeverie," and damps them back to 
earth. They will soon dry and grow glossy again, and be 
rollicking madly on the fitful winds as if the envious clouds 
had never wept. 
