I feel stronger and better to-night than I have done for some time.

Sing to me, but only those words, dear Emmy; all others would neither suit this scene nor my feelings." For a moment Emmeline hesitated, and looked towards her mother and Mrs.
Greville.

Neither was inclined to make any objection to her request, and on the appearance of her harp, under the superintendence of Arthur, Emmeline prepared to comply.

She placed the instrument at the further end of the apartment, that the notes might fall softer on Mary's ear, and sung, in a sweet and plaintive voice, the following words:-- "Remember me! ah, not with sorrow, 'Tis but sleep to wake in bliss.
Life's gayest hours can seek to borrow Vainly such a dream as this.
Ah, see, 'tis heaven itself revealing To my dimmed and failing sight; And hark! 'tis angels' voices stealing Through the starry veil of night.
Come, brother, come; ah, quickly sever The cold links of earth's dull chain; Come to thy home, where thou wilt never Pain or sorrow feel again.
Come, brother, come; we spread before thee Visions of thy blissful home; Heed not, if Death's cold pang come o'er thee, It will but bid thee haste and come! Ah, yes, I see bright forms are breaking Through the mist that veils mine eyes; Now gladly, gladly, earth forsaking, Take, oh, take me to the skies.
The mournful strain ceased, and there was silence.

Emmeline had adapted the words to that beautiful air of Weber's, the last composition of his gifted mind.