HOME OF THE DUELLIST.

" But ere the earliest violets bloom

We in his arms shall be, So, go to rest, my children dear,

And pray for him and me."

The snow-flakes rear'd their drifted mound

O'er hill and valley deep, But nought amid that peaceful home

Disturb 'd the dews of sleep ;

For lightly, like an angel's dream,

The trance of slumber fell Where innocence and holy love

Maintain'd their guardian spell.

Another eve, another scroll.

Wist ye what words it said ? Two words, two awful words it bore,

The duel ! and the dead !

The duel ! and the dead ! How dim Was that young mother's eye,

How fearful was her lengthen'd swoon How wild her piercing cry.

There's many a wife whose bosom's lord Is in his prime laid low,

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