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the drawbacks of that of Australia;-the same genial temperature and clear atmosphere, without the winter deluges of rain, or the long droughts and parching winds of summer. The hilly nature of the country supplies numerous streams of pure water, and the soil of the valleys and the hill-sides is most fertile and productive. Every English fruit flourishes vigorously; the orchards and gardens scarcely differ in their products from those at home; the settlers grow only such crops as are common in the old country, and many of the older Tasmanian farms would bear comparison with some of the best in England; though on the newer ones, the bare timber fences and unsightly blackened stumps of trees detract considerably from their beauty.

The spacious plains of Australia enable the colonists of that country to surpass the Tasmanians in wool-growing, though the hills of Van Diemen's Land afford pasture to thousands of sheep, and shelter for numerous herds of cattle; and in her breed of horses the island colony stands second only to England herself. Coal, freestone, and clay are plentiful, and timber adapted to ship and house-building is found in every part of the island; but it is on her agricultural capabilities that Tasmania chiefly rests her claim to notice, and from which she derives a title that has been happily bestowed upon her" the granary of the South Seas."

With my recollections of the colony are associated an adventure in the wildest part of it; the remembrance of a night passed in a scene of which I still retain a most vivid impression. The story may not be uninteresting to the reader, and it will, perhaps, furnish a better idea of the unsettled districts of the country than any mere details could convey.

In the summer month of December, a few years ago, I had occasion, in company with an old bushman, to make an excursion to the Huon river, the communication between which and Hobart Town is usually by water, as the hilly and thickly-timbered tract that separates them has hitherto prevented the formation of any road, other than a faint track marked by the occasional passage of travellers. As the place that we wished to reach lay higher up the Huon than the point at which this track joins it, we intended, by the aid of a pocket-compass and the extensive experience of my companion in bush-travelling, to trace out a new route which would shorten the distance, and also carry us through a comparatively unexplored country. With this design we started from town fully equipped for our journey, which we expected to accomplish with ease in two days. As we anticipated, in the course of our journey, having occasion to kill some game, each carried a light fowling-piece and its accompaniments, with the usual requisites for bush comfort. These consisted of two good opossum-skin rugs-the most valuable article that a bushman can possess-strapped to our shoulders, and containing a small supply of provisions, together with a tin pot for making tea, and a reserve of powder and shot. Broad leathern belts confined the loose blue flannel-shirts that formed our upper garments, and light hats made from the leaves of the Australian cabbage palm shielded our heads from the rays of the sun.

Leaving the town, we were soon within the deep gorge that rises towards Mount Wellington, and at the entrance of which is situated the Cascades Factory, a large building in which are incarcerated the most incorrigible of the female convicts. From this point the mountain rises to a height of four thousand feet, its sides covered with trees, and the ascent continually broken by the intervention of deep chasms and ravines, their rugged walls hidden beneath a tangled mass of most luxuriant vegeta. tion. A tolerably good path has been formed to the summit of the mountain, and several ladies have made the ascent, amongst whom may be especially mentioned Lady Franklin, who penetrated into many of the wildest recesses of the island during the governorship of her gallant husband, upon whose fate so dark a shadow rests. But our road lay to the left of the mountain, over hills thickly sprinkled with beautiful wattle-trees (acacia), covered with yellow flowers; and bushy honey. suckles (banksia), bearing pine-like cones; mingled with patches of forest or she-oaks (casuarina), trailing their long slender branches, from which droop weeping, threadlike tendrils instead of leaves. Beyond these hills rose a dark forest of huge gumtrees (encalyptus); and as the day declined, we entered a broad valley abounding with gigantic specimens of this great genus, the most common and yet the stateliest of all Australia's arborescent prodigies. Perhaps in no part of the world can this noble collection of forest giants be surpassed. One, that we roughly measured, was upwards of fifty feet in girth, and shot up, straight as an arrow, without a single break in the smooth tapering stem, to a height of more than a hundred feet. Here it threw out a number of huge branches, and then towered aloft, twisted and gnarled, covered with crooked boughs that cast a shade upon the topmost branches of tall trees; and fluttering with narrow leaves that turned their edges to the earth, and danced and trembled in the sunlight. The full altitude of this enormous tree must have been near three hundred feet, and many others grew around it of nearly equal dimensions.

Up from the valley, we went across another ridge of hills, and there we saw, trickling through the hollow, the little stream beside which we meant to pass the night. Here the scene had new attrac tions. It was the perfection of quiet beauty. The day had been hot and sultry, and through the long avenue of hills we saw the sun droop in the west, without a single cloud to catch the reflection of his fading glory; whilst, as he fell, there came stealing from the sea the cool refreshing night breeze. The evening was one of those I have seen in no other country-so still and gentle was it, and free from the thousand plagues that spring into life with the fiery sunset of the tropics. The stream by which we encamped was overhung by the graceful sassafras and sombre lightwood; and numerous flowering shrubs fringed its green banks, spreading among the slender tea-trees that stood in groups, linked to each other by climbing plants, from which hung many crimson tassels and yellow bell-shaped flowers. Beyond stood the solitary native cherry-tree, its thick dark foliage drooping in stringy clusters from the pendulous branches, and deepened almost to black in the increasing gloom. All around, too the stunted fern-trees

threw out their majestic crowns of long feathery leaves, and stretched away into the forest until lost in the dense brushwood. From the midst of this towered the blue and yellow gums, the stringy bark, and other varieties of the encalypti, their gigantic stems blackened by the bush fires, save where the new bark, bursting through in blended streaks of blue and white, gave to the old forest kings a ghostly likeness, heightened by the mourn ful waving of the long dark strips that are ever peeling from their trunks; for they follow the fashion of the country, where nature stands upon her head, and shed their bark instead of leaves. Such was the beautiful scene around us. Little did we think of the peril to which in a few hours our lives were to be exposed; but this incident, and our providential deliverance from danger, must be reserved for our next paper.

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON AT
CHURCH.

THE following interesting description of the Duke of Wellington's attendance at church was written by the Rev. Thresham Gregg, of Dublin, and is copied from the Constitution and Church Sentinel, of that city.

"I agreed with a friend to go to early service (at 8 o'clock A. M.) at the Chapel Royal, St. James's Palace, on a Sunday morning in February. The fact that the Duke of Wellington habitually attended there was the subordinate inducement; for assuredly, in going to the court of the great King, the Lord of the whole earth, to worship and adore Him must be a motive paramount to every other. I had never seen the Duke, and I felt that I should have to sustain a feeling of self-reproach if, with the opportunity of seeing him within my reach, I allowed the greatest captain of this age, perhaps any age, to leave the world unseen of me. It was a bleak morning-there had been a heavy fall of snow. Our way to the chapel lay through St. James's Park. We did not meet a single person. The stillness of London on the earliest hours of Sundays has often struck me. The state of the weather made this stillness seem greater than usual on this morning, and raised a suspicion in our minds that, in so far as our visit to the chapel involved the hope of our seeing the Duke, it would be attended with disappointment.

Arrived there, however, and, with the usual preliminaries, admitted within, we found a singuarly interesting congregation. The Chapel Royal is remarkable for a large attendance of the aristocracy, and we saw before us a congregation of rank, fashion, fame, power, worth, and wisdom such as is rarely witnessed. In a word, the congregation consisted in one single person-the Duke alone! Bleak as was the morning, there he was, laden with more of earth's honours, dignities, and renown, than any living man, and with but one stain upon his character, intently occupied with the Worship of his God, and all alone with the clergyman. Thoughts came flowing in upon us from all quarters-Waterloo, Vittoria, Salamanca; clashing thousands, the wounded, the dying; the silent camp, the imminent deadly breach; glorious victories, admiring millions, applauding senates, grate

ful princes, gorgeous courts-all, in fact, that is viewed as great and glorious in this lower world, with the one exception, as so related to the great personage before us, that they, in our minds, connected themselves with him, and were, by his presence on this occasion, forced before our imagination, and, as it were, seen realized. Here was the giant spirit which had been raised to sit upon the whirlwind and rule the storm; which had, instrumentally, for years decided the fortunes of nations, and peoples, and kindreds, and tongues, and received more of the incense of human gratitude, thanksgiving, and praise than had perhaps ever before been awarded to a mortal. Nor did there fail to mingle with the retrospect, thrones overturned, dynasties swept away, hopes which towered to heaven flung into perdition, curses both loud and deep.

"On our entrance the psalms of the day were being read. The Duke took alternate verses with the clergyman. He spoke with an utterance that was thick and indistinct, and occasionally stammered a little ere he got out a word, but still his voice filled the chapel. The Duke was as painstaking in the performance of his duty as ever parish clerk was, and much more so than many of the fraternity whom I have happened with. The rubric was punctiliously observed. At the creed he turned to the communion table, repeated the words distinctly and aloud; and all through impressed the spectator with the idea that he was intently engaged in the fulfilment of an important business of his own. The emphasis in the Litany was strong and marked, We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord.' And at the commandments, Incline our hearts to keep this law,' was thus repeated on each occasion. The lessons for the morning were Genesis ix. and Mark xiv. The sermon was remarkable, on Exodus, chapter xxiii. and 2nd verse. It briefly but strongly showed the dangers connected with too great a subserviency to the popular voice, and of course, without any intention on the part of the writer and preacher, dealt some strokes which the Duke must have felt; for here, as all through, the attention which he paid was exemplary.

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"With respect to the personal appearance of the Duke generally, it was much more robustious than the portraits would lead one to suppose. The popular idea is, that his Grace is a little and delicate old man, whose frame wears an appearance of great frugality. Not at all-quite the contrary. He never would be remarked as 'a little man,' and has not the slightest appearance of delicacy. In fact, both face and person realize the Iron Duke.' The former is remarkable for a deep tan, which would bespeak habitual exposure to the sun and tropical climes; the latter for a particularly strong build; shoulders broad, the calf of the leg full. The knee and the body straight and erect, but the head much stooped. The gait can only be described, so as to make the reader understand it, as a toddlesomething like (saving the reader's favour) that of a little tipsy-from side to side. He wore a blue frock coat and cross-barred trousers. The boots rather loose, and evidently of long standing; indeed all the clothes, without being shabby, had seen some service. The stock was white cambric, with a tie in front, but buckled behind with a

large steel, military-looking buckle, which from the stoop in the head was very conspicuous. He wore also a gold apparatus for the improvement of the hearing, which, taken in connection with the buckle of his stock, gave to his upper man a very metallic tone, as though he were in some sort an artificial man, made up of and supported by a combination of metals. We followed him at a respectful distance, as he walked to his cab, which, with his servant in it, awaited his arrival. He got in without assistance, and was driven away."

BIRMINGHAM AND HER MANU-
FACTURES.

VIL-ELECTROTYPE PROCESSES.

WE are now standing in the splendid galleries which constitute the show-rooms of the Messrs. Elkington and Mason, in Newhall-street. They are of ample extent, and furnished with such a brilliant array of beautiful and gorgeous productions as renders any attempt at description of necessity a failure. The surpassing merit of some of their designs is already familiar to the visitors of the Great Exhibition, who will remember the large vase representing the triumph of Science and Industry, and which is appropriately adorned with the statuettes of Newton, Watt, Shakspeare, and Bacon. This unique production is now before us; and around us on all sides are numberless specimens of everything that can be wrought in silver and gold, from the rich épergnes and costly tableservices of the aristocracy, down to a plain saltspoon or knife-rest, and all so accurately and exquisitely finished by the electrotype process as to be utterly undistinguishable from the workmanship of the silversmith and jeweller. In addition to works of this description, there are also massive bronze statues and groups of figures, the details of which it may be seen, on close inspection, are made out with the greatest exactness, although there is no trace of the tool of the sculptor. Many of these are grand in design; some are reproductions of the works of the Greek sculptors-others of modern masters. Not the least interesting to us are a numerous collection of articles in bronze, combining artistic talent with domestic usefulness, such as inkstands disguised as fruit, rustic figures and animals, which may serve the double purpose of paper-weights and chimney-ornaments, charming little busts of celebrated men, etc. etc. Again, we have the whole stock of the jeweller's shop so far as it is worn on the person-ladies' neck-chains, gentlemen's watch-guards, brequet chains, brace lets, brooches, necklaces-everything, in short, with which the goldsmith in Cheapside allures the taste or assails the vanity of the weaker, and, for the matter of that, of the stronger sex too. All these beautiful things around us are manufactured-so far, that is, as relates to all we can see of them, which is but their outer surfaces-by the agency of electricity. We must endeavour, as we walk through the factory, to render the process intelligible.

The reader is doubtless aware that the mode of manufacturing plated goods, as practised at Sheffield and elsewhere, is by spreading plates of silver upon one or both sides of plates of copper or brass, and then moulding or working the plates thus

combined into the forms of the articles desiredafterwards coating the edges with solid silver. In the electro process, on the contrary, the article, whatever it may be, is finished to the required shape, with all its ornaments, however profuse, and when complete in form, is silvered or gilt by the scientific application of electricity.

The art of electrotyping owes its origin to the accidental discovery of certain natural phenomena. It was found by an experimenter, who, in making trial of Daniell's constant battery, had used as one of the liquids a solution of sulphate of copper, that the electric current decomposed the sulphate, and that the copper was deposited in a thin metallic film upon the inner surface of the vessel. This discovery naturally made a considerable noise at the time, and thoughtful heads soon set to work to turn it to a useful and therefore profitable purpose. It was found that the copper deposit brought away a perfect impression of the surface to which it was attached, and that it could be made by very simple means to attach itself to anything. This led to the multiplication of copper plates, and a consequent reduction in the price of copperplate engravings, as any number could be struck off from electrotyped plates, and the expense of re-engraving, when one plate was worn out, was thus saved. It led also to a new style of engraving, known as Palmer's process, by which raised copper plates could be used, instead of wood-engravings, in the common printing-press. It has been applied to various other mechanical and artistic purposes, among others to the copying of Daguerreotype pictures; but in no other branch of arts or manufacture has it been so extensively available as in the fabrication of plated goods, an art which, as far as execution is concerned, it has exalted to the level of that of the silversmith and jeweller. Let us now take a brief survey of the various operations going on in the workshops of this establishment.

The great majority of the articles here manufactured are first fashioned from plates of the pure white metal known as German silver, rolled in the mill to the required thinness. Many of them, consisting of vessels for domestic use, such as tea and coffee-pots, are partly formed by hand labour, the part which forms the vessel being cut from a flat plate of metal, which is soldered together at the sides. The metal having been softened by annealing in a furnace, the article is handed over to a workman, who, with a hammer of hard wood or horn, forcibly beats and bangs it into the proper shape; by means of continued thumping he can impart considerable rotundity to a plain cylinder, the malleable metal taking any shape, though not very readily, that he may choose to give to it. It is in this manner that the graceful forms of teapots are modelled in great variety, from the swelling cone-shaped pyramids to the flatly-compressed globes. Nothing more than the bare trunk of a vessel, however, can be thus formed. The spout, the handle, the ornaments, the bottom, the cover, etc., have all to be struck in dies, the expense of which, where such a variety of exquisite patterns are wrought, must make prodigious demands upon capital. Dies too, some of them of astonishing size, are necessary in the formation of the various pieces of a dinner-service, such as plates, tureens,

salvers, etc. They are cut by a slow and laborious process, in heavy masses of steel, hardened to such a temper as to stand without injury the most violent usage. The manner of using them is as follows: the die from which an impression is to be taken is firmly fastened by means of four lateral screws to the centre of a solid bed, above which rises an engine not unlike the guillotine in shape and construction; it consists of two iron pillars, grooved down the centres of each, between which a heavy weight is made to slide up and down with unerring precision. The metal to receive the impression is placed upon the die; the descending weight, being armed with a piece of soft lead, is then raised by the action of the foot upon a stirrup, and suffered to fall, with a force depending upon the height to which it was raised, upon the surface of the die. If the die be very shallow, and the metal to be impressed very thin and pliable, one or two blows are sufficient for the purpose. We have now before us a handsome wreath of foliage, the impression of which is perfect, which we saw struck upon brass extremely thin, at one blow. But if the metal be of the average thick ness of the articles manufactured, the blow must be repeated many times; and if the die be deeply cut the weight must be armed with a corresponding punch formed to fit the hollow of the die. Further, any attempt to force the plate into a deep die at one blow would fracture the metal and render it useless. Much management is required in this process, which must be wrought gradually the first two or three blows are comparatively light, and for them the weight is armed with a punch or "force" of soft lead; as the metal sinks deeper into the die, the "force" is changed for one of harder material, until the last and finishing strokes are given with the full power of the engine and with a punch or "force" of iron. This is not all; the repeated heavy blows harden the metal to such a degree that it is no longer malleable, and to obviate this it has to be annealed, it may be, several times during the process of stamping. The Messrs. Elkington have a large apparatus worked by steam for stamping articles of a great size. Supposing the several parts of an ornamental article to be modelled and stamped, they have now to be soldered together. By means of jets of gas, and blow-pipes inflated by the steam-engine, a kind of solder much harder than that in general use, and not readily fusible, is here employed. By this means the spouts, handles, hinges, etc. of the different articles are firmly united, the hollows beneath the raised surfaces of the ornamental portions being filled up with fused metal. The articles, now complete in form, are next taken to the polishing-room, where, by rotten-stone applied by brushes rapidly revolving at the ends of small spindles, they are brought to a surface perfectly smooth. Such of them as require to be engraved are now made over to the engravers, whom we see, with the usual implements, transferring elegant patterns to their surfaces. We may now consider the articles ready for the plating-room.

The first thing that claims attention on entering the plating-room is the stupendous magnetic-electro machine, which, in the form of a huge wheel, stands close to the entrance. This is a contrivance for producing electricity by the aid of magnets, no

less than sixty-four of which, each of some three feet in length, are so arranged as to present their poles within a short distance of a wheel spinning round at the rate of six hundred revolutions in a minute. The force of the electric current is in some sort indicated to the spectator by the rapid succession of vari-coloured sparks passing continually from the armature of the engine to the twisted strand of conducting wires, one end of which is immersed in the silvering trough or vat, which occupies the centre of the room. The force of this machine is said to be sufficient to deposit fifty ounces of silver in an hour; the silver is supplied by plates of the metal sunk at the bottom of the trough. As a substitute for the ordinary galvanic battery, the power of which requires to be continually renewed, this machine has been found entirely successful, it having continued for many months in operation without any material variation in power. We observe, however, that the process of silvering by the galvanic battery is going on in the same room in smaller vats. When the articles to be silvered are brought into this room, all that has to be done is to suspend them, so that they shall hang clear of the bottom and not touch each other, in one or other of the numerous vats where, under electric agency, the deposition of silver is going on. They have to remain there a certain length of time, proportioned to the thickness of the silver covering required: they may be either coated with a thin film or solidly encased in a suit of silver armour. One great advantage of this process is, that articles to be silvered may be first engraved, the deposition of silver going on with such unvarying thickness in every part, that the finest lines of the engraving tool, and even the characteristic marks of the engraver, are exactly reproduced upon the silver surface. Any attempt to silver a surface finely engraved by any other means would infallibly deface or choke up the work of the artist. The operation of gilding is performed in precisely the same manner-though we witnessed a sort of legerdemain feat in this department of the works, the operator gilding the bowl of a spoon in less than two seconds by simply immersing it in a brown-coloured liquid.

On emerging from the silvering vats, the articles are washed and dried, and conveyed to the polishing-rooms, to be polished and burnished. The polishing is performed in various ways. Flat surfaces are hammered upon a glossy anvil by a heavy hammer, and finally polished by rubbing with the palm of the hand. Hollowed surfaces are subjected to the action of felt or leather rubbers, revolving rapidly in a kind of lathe. The parts to be burnished are rubbed to a dazzling lustre by burnishing tools of polished steel. After this, such fittings, as handles of crystal or ivory, as may be wanted are added, and a final colouring by the application of plate-powder qualifies them for the show-room or the market.

We must add one word explanatory of the manufacture of bronze figures by electrotype. To produce such a figure a model must first be formed; from this a mould is taken, the interior of which is rendered, by a slight coating of blacklead, or other means, susceptible of the deposit; it is then put into a vat containing a solution of copper, and the deposition commences, The solidity

of the figure will of course depend upon the time it remains in the vat; and supposing it to remain a sufficient time, with an adequate supply of the sulphate of copper, it may become a solid mass, as effectually as if filled with metal at the foundry.

FUN-LOVING ANIMALS.

AN interesting work on the "Passions of Animals" nas the following concerning their fun-loving propensities:

Small birds chase each other about in play; but perhaps the conduct of the crane and the trumpeter is the most extraordinary. The latter stands on one leg, hops about in the most eccentric manner, and throws somersaults. The Americans call it the mad bird on account of these singularities. The crane expands its wings, runs round in circles, leaps, and throwing little stones and pieces of wood in the air, endeavours to catch them again, and pretends to avoid them, as if afraid. Water-birds, such as ducks and geese, dive after each other and cleave the surface of the water, with outstretched neck and flapping wings, throwing an abundant spray around. Deer often engage in a sham battle, or a trial of strength, by twisting their horns together and pushing for the mastery. All animals that pretend violence in their play stop short of exercising it the dog takes the greatest precaution not to injure by his bite; and the ourangoutang, in wrestling with his keeper, pretends to throw him and makes feint of biting him. Some animals carry out in their play the semblance of catching their prey; young cats, for instance, leap after every small and moving object, even to the leaves strewn by the autumn wind; they crouch and steal forward, ready for the spring, the body quivering, and the tail vibrating with emotion. They bound on the moving leaf, and again spring forward to another. Benger saw young jaguars and cougars playing with round substances, like kittens. Young lambs collect together on little hillocks and eminences in their pastures, racing and sporting with each other in the most interesting manner. Birds of the pie kind are the analogues of monkeys, full of mischief, play, and mimicry. There is a story told of a tame magpie that was seen busily engaged in a garden gathering pebbles, and with much solemnity and studied air burying them in a hole about eighteen inches deep, made to receive a post. After dropping each stone, it cried "currack" triumphantly, and set out for another. On examining the spot, a poor toad was found in this hole, which the magpie was stoning for his amusement.

COATING IRON WITH COPPER.-A patent has been granted to Theodore G. Bucklin, of Troy, New York, for a new and improved mode of coating iron with copper, which promises to be an invention of no small importance to the arts. A method of covering iron with brass, copper, etc., has long been known; but to cover it, and make the copper unite with the iron, like tinned iron, has hitherto been considered problematical. The invention of Mr. Bucklin promises to fulfil every condition desired in making coppered iron. Cast, malleable, and wrought iron can be coated with copper by the new process. The process consists

in first removing the oxide from the iron to be coated, then covering it with a medium metal, which has a great affinity for the iron, and afterwards dipping the iron so prepared into molten copper, which, by the galvanic action of the medium metal, makes the copper intimately combine with the iron, and form a complete coating. The oxide is removed from iron by means of dilute sulphuric acid, in which the castings or sheets are rubbed with sand; after this they are washed and dipped into a solution of the muriate of ammonia, dissolved in a suitable vessel, when they are ready for the next process. This consists in dipping the sheets or plates into molten zinc, immediately after they are lifted out of the sal-ammoniac solution. The surface of the molten zinc should be covered with dry sal-ammoniac, to prevent the evaporation of the metal. The iron is soon covered with a coating of zinc, and forms what is termed galvanized iron. At hand the operator has a crucible or pot, containing melted copper, covered with some incombustible substance, as a wiper, and he at once dips the zinced iron into this, in which it is kept until it ceases to hiss, when it is taken out, and found to be covered with a complete and durable coating of copper. By dipping the iron thus coppered into the solution of sal-ammoniac, then into the zinc, and the copper-repeating the processcoat upon coat of the copper will be obtained, until it acquires any degree of thickness.

STOP AND THINK!
STOP, thou thoughtless, reckless man,
Trifling out life's little span,
God and heaven of you demand,
Stop and think!

Heaven above, and hell below,
Pleasure, pain, and joy, and woe,
Repeat the words in accents slow,
Stop and think!

Life's no time for idle dreams,
Life was lent for loftier aims,
Lend your mind to nobler themes,
Stop and think!

Life calls for thought of sternest hue,
Calls for thought and calls to you,
To your soul's best good be true;
Stop and think!

Live not on without an aim,
Living thus you live in vain-
Do not thus God's love disdain;
Stop and think!
Think how short life's fleeting day,
Think, O think, while now you may,
Death soon will hurry you away;

Stop and think!

Think what work you have to do,
Think what Christ has done for you,
Lo! your Saviour calls anew,
Stop and think!
Else when life has pass'd away,
And you have wasted its brief day,
Nought but this your grief will stay,
You would not think!

Or when time with you is o'er,
And you have reach'd that distant shore
Whence mortal shall return no more,
Thought will be in vain!
But if now you think aright,
Soon you'll reach those realms of light,
Clouded ne'er by death or night,
Where thought is joy.

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