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138 [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] WINTER HAS COKE. BY SAMFRL L. HAMMOND. Gone ! Gone! Gone! From the hill-sides and plains, And blooming bowers. Are spring time’s flowers — Not one, not one remains! Gone! Gone I Gone! The dreams of Life's young morn, Castles built in air, Boyhood's hopes so fair, Have vanished, one by one ! Alii AH! All! Os the Summer’s green leaves, That like banners bright, Once waved in the light, - All have dropped from the trees! All! All! All! High thoughts that burned of yore, The bright aims of youth, And trust in man’s truth, Gone, to return no more ! Cold! Cold 1 Cold! Winter is dark and drear; Summer's leaves have fled : And life'sjoys have sped— The heart is cold and sere! [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] SATURDAY NIGHT. BT MBS. CAROLINE IIKNTZ BRANCH, “There! the door bell is ringing—who'can be calling here on Saturday night? If it is Charlie Grey, who did so once liefore, I do wish he could learn when he should stay at home, and when not to stay at home.” Aliene Farmer was in her chamber, arranging some ornaments for wearing the next day, and her dress was not so neat as usual, but it was Saturday night, and she did not think any one wkom%he cared to see would be insane enough to venture out. Her sister Ellen was the only one in the room beside herself, and she did not think it necessary to be select in her language. “Why, sister,” returned a clear pleasant voice, “ I thought you were always glad to see Charlie.” “ Pshaw 1 You are very dull. I like him well enough in his place, but it does not suit me to see him to-night, if ho should so choose. ’ “ Why not? ” again asked the pleasant voice. “Because it is Saturday night, when any Christian naturally dislikes to receive company. You know my reasons very well, and I don’t Bee the use of staring at me so. You can have the pleasure of entertaining him yourself)”— and Aliene’s red lips began to curl in a very un attractive way. “ He will have reason to be offended, if you treat him so unceremoniously," Ellen said, whilst a shadow came over her serene face.— She wondered that Aliene would speak of a Christian's dislike for interruption on Saturday night, yet she pursued the principal subject of discussion. “Besides, sister, you know very well, it is you whom he visits. My acquaint ance with him is very slight,—or, rather," she continued, after a little embarrassment, “h# has scarcely renewed our childhood’s acquaint ance, since my return from school.” “It is full time he should do so,” Aliene retorted. Ellen did not understand the covert meaning of Aliene’s words, and as she saw by the flash of her eyes that she was losing self-command, she concluded to say no more. The bell here rang again. “ There 1 I hear his step— his voice! ” ex claimed Aliene. “ You must see him, Ellen.” “Sister, you will have to excuse me, to-night, for I will be engaged,” and now the cheerful voice had grown serious. “And in what, pray?” Aliene asked, impa tiently. Ellen did not reply immediately, out when she did, there were tears in her eyes. “To-morrow is the Sabbath, and we have communion. I thought you heard mother men tion it at tea.” “I see nothing in that to prevent your pass ing an hour in entertaining Charlie Grey.— Don’t, for mercy’s sake, bo sanctimonious; I despise that.” Aliene spoke thus on her way to the looking glass, where she began to smooth her shining black hair with angry rapidity. Her eyes were large and lustrous, but they were not beautiful at that moment. She must have seen the re flection of their unchristian glow. Her cheek was fair and blooming, but a very heated, un becoming glow dyed it then. Ellen had turned away and was looking out of the window, to hide her tears. An ebony-colored face appeared in the door way, and Roxey announced, with a very intelli gent grimace, that “Mas’ Charlie axed for Miss Nellie dis time.” “Did he ask for no ono else?” Aliene (Juiek ly demauded, and for the first time she remem bered to lower her voice. “No ra’m. He tell me, for pertickler, dat he call on Miss Ellen Farmer.” “ Thank heaven! ” was Alienas exclamation, as she took a seat nervously, an expression marring the classic beauty of her face, and be lying the relief her words expressed. Ellen’s glance involuntarily looked the reproach she did not express; for the words which Aliene uttered thoughtlessly were irreverent, and Ellen was pained to hear them. She, however, only asked Roxey, in real surprise, “Are you sure you did not mistake the names ? ” “ Shore, Miss Nellie. He waitin’, mighty on patient like.” “ Tell him I will be down.” Roxey disappeared, and Ellen was preparing to follow her, when Aliene spoke derisively, “There must be some uncommon magic in this special message, if it melts your pious scruples so readily! ” Ellen’s white cheek glowed, but she only said, u Do be more careful how you speak; he might hear you.” She went below, and Aliene sat thinking of her words. The windows were all open, the air damp and still, and the noisy hum of busy day was over. She was not in the habit of lowering her voice, for they lived aloof from close neighbors. “Oh! if he has heard!” cried she to her self, with a real heart-pang; for Aliene liked Charlie, even more than she had admitted to herself. Roxey’s face again shone beside her so sud denly that slie sprang up in alarm. “De lawsy, Miss Leen! I nebber meant to skeer you,” cried Roxey, giggling, and in a loud whisper—“ I jest cum to tell you ’bout mindin’ how you talk up here. Mas' Charlie heerd you quarr’lin long o’ Miss Nellie, and talkin’ 'bout him, and he looked rite comflusti cated when I ax’d him in.” THE 80TOK8BS EXEEE EXE VXEESXEE. “ How do you know he heard me ? ” “ ’Kase / did lieer you, too, Miss Leen, and I w r as furrer off dan he. You ax Miss Nellie if he war'nt comflusticated ’bout sumthin’! ” “Go away! ” cried Aliene, this time sup pressing her angry tones; and Roxey went out as suddenly as she had come in, and she shook her head and made another intelligent grimace, when the door was shut violently behind her retreating figure. Aliene sat alone, no longer with nimble fin gers arranging the morrow’s dress, but with a lowering brow —angry, waiting, listening, and vainly regretting—whilst Charlie was enjoying the first hour of pleasant intercourse with her sister Ellen, whom in her retiring sphere, he had not really known. He did not remain late, and Ellen had not long to transgress on the hours allotted to sleep, in preparing her heart for participating in the morrow’s holy commu nion. With a peaceful heart she sank to rest, whilst Aliene, in proud silence, tossed restlessly to and fro, as if she might have cried out her thoughts thus — “I wish mine eyes Would with themselves shut up my thoughts.” CHAPTER 11. Charlie Grey had overheard the conversation between the sisters, and it was in a rather dis turbed frame of mind that he walked away from the house. He had called for Ellen, through an impulse, prompted by pride, but her words in reference to the communion on the morrow, had excited in his mind a deep and curious interest, and in spite of some feelings of mortification, lie enjoyed the society of Ellen as he little expected. “ What was it that would engage her in view of the coming sacrament?” He asked himself this question on his homeward walk. He be lieved himself to be as well acquainted with the belief and practice of Christians as most of the non-regenerate, but lie now felt that his ideas were very vague. As he pondered seriously, a feeling of humility came over him, a sense of unsatisfied want and longing, when he reflected that Ellen Farmer, a young girl, had far prece ded him in climbing the scale of being. Charles and Lewis Grey were the remnant of a once large and prosperous family—the rest lay in the village churchyard, and the old homestead which had rung with their merry infant voices, and which was hallowed by the memory of a beloved mother, was still the homo of the two brothers. They were bound by more than common ties in a brotherly love, as strong as life. Lewis was a year younger, and was an object of peculiar solicitude to Charlie, on ‘account of his being hump-backed and feeble in constitution. Charlie was blessed with health, strength, fine manly proportions, and with uncommon gifts of mind and heart, and had just returned from one of the first institutions of learning in the country, crowned with honors. On the other hand, Lewis was unfortunate in form, feeble, and shut out from the enlivening socialities of life, had been educated in seclusion, and yet, shut out as he was from the brightest hopes of youth, of the two, he was the happier. There were few who knew of the rare excellence of the mind of Lewis, but he was known and loved as a meek, cheerful, and active Christian, and it was this piety which, like a talisman, preserved his soul from the as saults and storms which often jarred the excita ble nature of Charlie. The quiet, yet shining example which Lewis set before him, was not lost upon Charlie, but as yet he wandered in darkness. He hastened homewards, lingering on the image of Ellen Farmer’s spiritual face, until it grew sacred in his eyes, and as if it was sullying its fairness to indulge angry feelings, he suppressed his indignation at the revelation he had overheard. But when he burst into the room where Lewis was quietly seated, he was heated with his rapid walk, and there was an unu sual flash in the clear glance with which he al ways looked upon Lewis. As was his custom, he unfolded to him the events of the evening. “I thought Aliene so lovely,” he continued in conclusion, “ I looked upon her as a being of a purer atmosphere, formed to be a ministering apgel to such rough natures as mine. Oh! lam sick of human trust and faith. Where can it find anchor?” Lewis might have given an oft told reply, but this was not the time, and with his hand, cool and soft as woman's, laid on his brother’s, so hot and throbbing with impetuous life, he asked, “ Did the gentle replies of the sister teach you nothing? Have you not conjectured upon what foundation her faith is anchored ? ” Charlie listened and became lost in thought. And then when he had gone to rest, and slumber was stealing upon him, he found himself repeating: “ I shall go to-morrow, watch her, study her face, and perhaps ” but sleep confused aud scattered the half formed ideas. CHAPTER 111. The Sabbath bells were chiming musically, as a handsome carriage waited at the gate of Mrs. Farmer’s residence. Aliene and Ellen came out in their church-going attire, and Aliene adjusted her voluminous skirts so as to make room for Ellen by her on tho seat she had taken; but Ellen was turning away. “ Why do you wait, Nellie ? Mother is not well enough to come out. ” “ Yes, and I prefer to walk,” she answered, with a cheerful smile. “Strange taste, if I may judge by looking at these dirty streets,” Aliene said in a sneering tone, but she changed her tone, and smiled Bril liantly a moment afterwards. There were two dashing looking young men coming past them, in a handsome conveyance, and they heard Aliene say to Ellen, in her different mood: “Thou art a model, my little puritan.” Aliene had seen them, though she seemed very prettily surprised, when they escorted her and paused to have a word witli the most beautiful girl in tho place. Ellen walked on. and was soon out of sight wending h£r way in an oppo site direction to which her sister was going, for Ellen was a Methodist. Aliene, who had been partially adopted by a wealthy Aunt, had been in her northern city home during the four years of her attendance at school. This aunt was an Episcopalian, and Aliene, never strong in her predilection for the mother Church, had returned to her Georgian home, completely wedded to her aunt’s habits and inclinations. Mrs. Farmer was in miserable health, and as she had never been firm in her discipline of her children, she made no attempt to restrain Aliene, who was more like a visitor than a member of the family, during her stay amongst them. So she swept away, seated on soft cushions, scarcely knowing, and caring less, where the neat white Methodist house of worship had been rebuilt in her ab sence. She remembered the ungraceful outlines of the one to which even in childhood she had, with aristocratic instincts , taken an aversion; thinking its homely, unpainted walls and stiff benches no fit accommodations for gentlewomen. She thought so still, having taken no pains to see the improved condition of the Church, and she reflected upon Ellen’s course with great chagrin. It was not to a building equal in splendor to Trinity Church of New York, that she approached, but it was to one in which she did not disdain to kneel. Charlie Grey did not, as usual, meet her at the carriage door, and carry her prayer book for her as far as her seat. She missed his hand some, admiring face, and remembered with a pang of fresh mortification, the incidents of the preceding evening. But there was no humility in her appearance as she swept up the softly carpeted aisle, and arranged her dress upon the cushioned seat. Aliene had the air of an Empress, and the beauty of a Juno, but her heart was keeping chime to another story, on this Sabbath morning, and she was unconscious that admiring eyes were upon her. The half clouded sunlight streamed in through the blinds across the pew where she sat, and also across t|e one into which she gazed, and there was something in the moment and in the sight which tarried her thoughts back to child hood. She heard the swallows twittering in the eaves above die window; she heard them even above the notes of the swelling organ, and she remembered, almost forgetting the interval, how long ago she had sat just where she was, close to her stately aunt, and how she had stolen bashful glances into the same pew which now enchained her gaze; but then, there was a gold en haired boy, with eyes of startling meaning, who returned the coy glances, with fervent boy ish admiration. There was also, nearly always, another boy, smaller, and with delicate bent fig ure, beside the older handsomer brother, and he, too, had often watched her, and blushed when he met her gaie. The pew was empty this morning, and as if the sight caused her to feel that there was a void in her soul, an empti ness in her life, Al.ene, still forgetting all but her sorrowful namings, wept. Then, as she again remembered the night just passed, the halcyon visions of her childhood van ished, and, with a nervous start, she brushed away the truant tear*, and looked up. She felt her face crimson, when an old man witli grey beard, and uncertain, sharp voice, cried out, look ing up at her, strangely, during the repeatal of the solemn Litany: “ From all blindness of heart —from pride, (here his fierce grey eyes seemed to mi?condemnato ry fires) from vain 'lory and hypocrisy: from envy, hatred, and milice, and all uucharitable ness; Good Lord delver us.” Aliene felt someth ng new and strange with in her, struggling for life; there was an overpow ering feeling, which made her crush back a self-reproach and look up defiantly at the old man; but the fierce gray eyes, with the over hanging eyebrows, were turned away from her. She, too, then joined in with the congregation, in repealing the Litauy, “wlijlst she watched in vain for the tilling of the empty pew. Charlie, true to the last night’s resolve, turik'd his steps towards another house of worship, to which Lewis was a regular attendant. The scene, in which Aliene had just borne a part, was familiar to Charlie, and he felt vividly the contrast, as from his retired seat he looked over the congregation of Methodists. His restless gaze, “ like the fool’s eyes,” wandered here and there, looking vainly beneath showers of pink, blue, and parti-colored ribbons, for the face which haunted him; now thinking he had found it, when lie saw the gleam of white robes, —but he was cheeked by a hand upon his. Lewis said nothing, but Charlie read in his glance that he was thinking of the proverb of Solomon, which was alluded to above, and Charlie heeded the gentle reminder, by fixing his attention upon the words of the minister. When the solemn Eucharist was administered, Charlie remained, looking on, as he had never before, with the inward craving of his soul op-' pressing him with its unsatisfied clammoring. His mind took in, with a kind of mystic awe, the light reflected from one face. He had not seen it, until, among those approaching the altar, with the ornaments of faith and humility alone, he singled out the figure of Ellen Farmer. He singled it out, as he would have done the first opening violet for which he had long search ed. By no bright flower, neither by a brilliant eye, a beautiful mouth or a graceful form, would he have pointed her out to another; but by a brow, crowned with purity and holiness, a glance aU heaven-absorbed, and glistening with tho re membrance of a bleeding Saviour. He gazed at her as if in a dream, forgetting the evening converse, and only realizing that he had heard her say, “To-morrow is communion.” How ho 4 envied her the serenity and peace, crowing her brow as with a halo, poor wayfarer that he was! . So great was the excitement with which he followed the whole ceremony, that he had been unmindful, as had many others, of the thunder muttering in the distance, and of the heavy cloud which was arising. The congregation was quickly scattered, upon dismissal, but among a few, who remained was Ellen. Charlie saw her standing by one of the heavy pillars, in front of the buildng; and he drew near her, attracted by some irresistible power, yet she seemed conscious of no presence, but the voice of the mighty Thunderer. Sharp flashes were followed by heavy peals, and though the fierce gleam across the black clouds often forced her to close her eyes for an instant, she did not move, and her face wore still its expression of beautiful serenity. Charlie addressed her almost stinvoluntary— “Are you holding converse with the spirits?” She was painfully aroused from her uncon sciousness. He saw it and felt a regret, that he had cansed her cheek to glow witli human emotion. She did not reply, but whilst she was quickly regaining composure, Charlie said: “ Forgive my rudo intrusion. I was admiriug your fearlesness, that was all.” But Ellen did not think “ that was all," and as fearless, in her pure heartedness, of human scru tiny, as she was of the warring elements, she told him her thoughts. But when she saw the deep earnestness with which he regarded her, and how his singularly bright eye gleamed upon her, under the influence of some strong impulse, she regretted the confession, and continued, a little hurriedly— “l love to watch the thunder cloud, and was in a peculiar mode for enjoying the sight just then.” “ Then it is but a feeling, which I can share,” he cried, in a half disappointed tone. “I was regarding you witli almost superstitious reve rence, feeliDg sure that I read something more in the expression of your face, than my world dimmed sense can fathom. I confess still, that if I had a concealed crime at my heart, I should fear your gaze.” 'I lie conversation interested her, and she was on the point of asking why he would fear her, when a loud peal of thunder directed her at tention again towards the clouds. He asked suddenly how she expected to reach home, and whether he should not go for the carriage. “ Aliene will come, or send,” she replied, with out removing tier gaze from the heavens, so overcast with angry, rolling clouds, and she continued softly, as if reflecting aloud — “ Poor Aliene is so timid in a storm; I feel anxions about her.” “ Were you always so fearless?” said another voice; at the sound both Charlie and Ellen started. Lewis had come up quietly, as he had ling ered, purposely, to avoid notice, and lie had been forgotten for the time. Ellen had been a pupil «f his, during a season in which he taught the village school, some years previous. He was much beloved as an instructor, and Ellen had been one of his best friends, though she was too modest to give such evidence to him. Since her return from a distant school, she had scarcely seen him, and deeply compassionating the sensi tiveness which made him shrink from society, she rejoiced at an opportunity which allowed her to express pleasure at meeting him. The color deepened to crimson, in his pale cheek, as she expressed her sincere warmth of feeling, and a more earthly gleam than usually slione in his large thoughtful eyes, now anima ted them. Charlie regarded him with solicitous interest, and a suspicion flashed through his mind; one which he endeavored to banish, but like a thorn in the flesh it disturbed his mind. Here another crash silenced conversation and directed all thoughts to the storm. Ellen’s quick ear discovered amidst the roar a sound, which blanched her cheek. It was the shriek of a female voice—then there was a sound of trampling, a confused mingling of rol ling wheels, thunder and shrieks! An instant more and a carriage was whirled into view, drawn by a pair of terror-stricken animals, who rushed madly from side to side, now pawing the air, when a flash of lightning glared upon their sight, and then dashing furiously past. Ellen saw the face of Aliene, at the carriage window, terrible in its fright, and she heard her cry out to Charlie, in desparing agony, for help. She saw him borne along, as if upon the wings of the wind, after the whirling carriage, and then like meteors the horses dashed around the corner to which Charlie was hurrying. She saw him once, as in a blaze of light, when heaven’s glo ries flashed upon him, then, in the blackness that followed, carriage and pursuer both disappeared. Ellen, for one moment, forgetting all presence, gave way to the agony of the time, and, in mo mentary loss of all self-possession, was rushing out into the storm alone. Lewis held her back, and she turned, to remember his existence. He was firm and strong, but she saw how keenly he too was suffering, and she grew stronger, too, though she plead wildly. “Let us go, Mr. Lewis; after them, after them! I cannot stay. For his sake, you will come.” He no longer resisted, and half supporting her, they went out into the pelting rain and sleet, and groped their way, half blinded by the beat ing rain, onwards in silence. She was dwelling in weak terror upon a frightful vision of mangled bodies beneath the infuriated animals; and she could only shudder and struggle onwards whilst he who bore her near him, as he would perhaps uever again, felt a thrill at the nearness, which was in strange contrast to every emotion of his nature, and very strange at that moment. They struggled onward, and soon, through the mist, they saw a heap of the mangled car riage, from which the horses had broken loose. Ellen clung closer to Lewis, while a cold shiver shot through her frame. “Bear up,” she heard him cry, “bear up, my sister;” but she covered her face with her hands, and could only moan aloud. “Look,” cried Lewis, forcing her hands from her eyes, as he pointed towards two figures, not far off. Ellen gave a scream of joy, for she re cognised Charlie, who was aiding Aliene to ex tricate herself from the ruins. They were saved, and a fervent “thank God," echoed in each heart. * Aliene stood in her saturated, rain-soiled dress, with her hair wildly disordered, her beautiful bon et a mangled mass, and she was pouring forth her gratitude to her deliverer, in the elo quence of sobs, and half uttered words ; whilst her eyes were telling him far more than her words. Lewis hung upon his brother’s neck for a moment in unconquerable emotion, but in en deavoring to gain command of himself, he turned away without meeting his brother’s glance. He felt a hand seize his. “ Mr. Lewis,” exclaimed Ellen, and her cheek was again blanched, “look to your broth er ! Oh I merciful powers, he is dying!” She alone had seen the sickening pallor, the deadly hue of Charlie’s lips, and how even amidst Aliene’s outpouring of feeling, he had gasped for breath, and closed his eyes as if in agony— though no outcry escaped his lips. Lewis gain ed his side in an instant, and bore him up, just as a stream of blood flowed from between his blue lips, but he staggered beneath his burden, as Charlie leaned heavily upon him, and both sank upon the ground. Ellen saw that a crowd of persons had gathered around them, she heard the irrepressible groans of the wretched brother, and the wild shrieks of Aliene, who, in abandon ed terror, knelt beside Charlie, and unconscious ly was crying out in a tone that was telling all her heart—yet seeing, and hearing all, and still bearing up, Ellen alone was strong. She tried with her small hand to lift the head of Charlie, so as to shelter his face from the pitiless ele ments, and others were helping her, she knew not whom, but she saw his eyes unclose. He was listening to Aliene’s piteous cries, and it was a strange sight to witness the expression which came across his death-like face, and lighted up his glazing eyes for a moment. His dim glance then seemed to search for some one, and it was not hers, for she was watching in intentness, and no one knew of the agony at her heart. What spell was upon her voice, and why was she, of the four sufferers, the only one calm enough, strong enough to think, to assist, and to control her emotions? But the need for euergy and strength passed, and for a time Ellen was weak —a time which in passing was like a dream. Charlie was con veyed to the nearest house, where a physician accompanied him, and friends were gathered around him. Ellen and Aliene were conveyed home, for they no longer had a place beside Charlie. Some one had said, “He had only burst a blood ves sel and may recover." This had been repeated again and again to Aliene, who did nothing but moan hysterically and wring her hands. Poor Mrs. Farmer was half distracted with anxiety, and met them with such intense relief, that her feeble frame was prostrated. Here, again, Ellen was the only one to act and think. Aliene was in an alarming way. Her hands were rigid, and shivering agues contracted her whole frame. Terrified at her own condition, she called inces santly upon Ellen for relief; and Ellen sat near her, through the next hours of harrowing dis tress, speaking words of comfort, thougli her own heart was aching with its hidden misery. Then there came a messenger from Charlie. He had only ruptured a blood vessel, in checking the strong animals, and he was in a fairway of recovery. The physician who attended him, administered an opiate to Aliene, and when she slept quietly, Ellen stole into her own chamber and felt its solitude a very joy. It was in vain for her to woo slumber, when the most frightful images haunted her closed eyes, and struck a nameless chill to her heart, though the scene was all past and gone, and she had reason to be joyful. No one dreamed of her sorrow. She laid her head on the damp window sill and let the cool night breeze fan her burning cheek, and whilst she looked out upon the moon, which struggled out through clouds, she seemed to see in its mirror ed outline, the reflection of Charlie’s face, as it was when lit up by that strange expression. She could not banish it, and with nervous tears she walked her room back and forth, her face between her hands, that she might hide, if possible, even from herself, the secret of her grief, which her truth-telling face might reveal. But there was a fount from which Ellen never returned thirsting, and now she sought it in hu mility. Like the wanderer weeping for joy, when the lights of home gleam around him, she arose from her kneeling, with joy unspeakable shining through her tears. She slept in the peace which no opiate can ever bring. [to be continued.] [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] MBS. HEMANS AND L. E. L. COMPARED. The one a lark, whose clear, sweet morning hymn, Fills air with music such as angels sing; The other, the dark sad bird of night, Whose thrilling notes tell most of passion’s blight. The first, though sorrowing much, with reverent wing, Mounts Upward still, withtever grateful hymn; The last, when spirit wounded, shrieks her pain, Seeking from Earth relief—and seeks in vain! That, a mild zephyr, wafting odors sweet, And gently fanning lightsomely the cheek; This, a hot blast, of scorching, stilling breath, Her withering touch is like the simoon's—death! Theyirsf, with pure chaste kiss, brings quiet joy, And Love unmixed with Passion’s base alloy; The last brings evcr-aching head and heart, With haunting Fears you cannot make depart we love to look upon in prayer, Pure, holy, ardent rapt in reverent fear; The last torments us with th’ unwelcome thought, Thate’en the Blest Abodes with pain are fraught! Mona. LONGEVITY IN THE PROFESSIONS. The members of the Royal Statistical Society of Great Britain, have paid great attention to the subject of duration of the human life, and have just concluded a thorough investigation, which has occupied the last fourteen years. An eminent English physician has taken all the facts presented before the Society, since 1845, and reports to the Fellows that he has drawn therefrom the following inferences: 1. That the value of human life was lower in the seventeenth century, than in the sixteenth, but that it •ex perienced a marked recovery ixf the eighteenth, and that this remarkable feature was incinden tal to each class of the community, with the ex ception of sovereigns, medical men, artists, (who show a progressive improvement,) and lawyers (who show a progressive deterioration.) 2. That the duration of life of married men is greater than that of unmarried men—the differ ence being 5f years in favor of the former. 3. That as regards the comparative duration of life of the two sexes, females have the advantage over males, and a better expectation of life at every age from 25 to 75. One of the most interesting and valuable of the papers presented before the society, was read by Dr. Guy, “On the duration of Life as affected by the Pursuits of Literature, Science, and Art.” Most writers on the subject have always treated of distinct and well defined clas ses of society, such as laborers, the three learned professions, sovereigns, &c.; but Dr. Guy con sidered the less defined class of society, known as artists, literary and scientific men. He treated hiS theme under four divisions, viz: 1. The du ration of life of literary men; 2. The duration of life of scientific meD ; 3. The duration of the professors of the fine arts; and, 4. A compa rison of these three classes. In regard to the first of these divisions—the duration of life among literary men—the author had been able to collect, from “ Chalmer’s Bio graphical Dictionary.” and the “Annual Regis ter,” 942 ages at death of men more or less de voted to literary pursuits. Dr. Guy observed at the outset that this class was not so sharply de fined as other classes of society. British wri ters, both in prose and verse, were of every rank and profession. With some it was only an occasional and exceptional pursuit; but with others it was, as much a profession as divinity, law, or physics. His paper referred to all those who made literature one of their pursuits, and duration of whose life was consequently affect ed in various degress by the habits of composi tion. These were subdivided into antiquaries, historians, poets, miscellaneous writers, and wri ters professionally engaged as schoolmasters.— Os these ages at death the lowest were those of two poets, who died at the age of 21; the high est that of T. O'Sullivan, a celebrated Irish bard and author, who died at the recorded age of 115. According to the tables exhibited by Dr. Guy, poets appear, on an average, to live the shortest lives, and next to them come schoolmasters.— This may be explained, as regurds poets, by the circumstance of their commencing their dis tinctive pursuit earlier than any other class of literary men; and, as regards schoolmasters, by the immense amount of confinement in unhealthy rooms which they are compelltd to undergo. That poets had been a short-lived race appeared evident from some statistics of the ages at death of Roman poets, produced by Dr. Guy. Thus, Tibullus died at 24, Persius at 30, Lucilius and Catulls at 46, Virgil at 51, Horace at 57, Ovid at 59, and Martial at 75—the eight names giv ing the low average of years. Against these may be placed Kirke White, who died at 21, Collins at 36, Parnell and Robert Burns at 37, Goldsmith at 46, Thompson at 48, Cowley at 49, Shakespeare at 52, and Pope at 66 yielding an average of 43 years. The average duration of life of British poets who attained the age of 21 was 58.10 years; while the correspon ding duration of life for the antiquaries—the highest in the list—was 67.66 years. Historians ranked next to antiquarians as a long-lived class. The average duration of life of eiglit Roman writers who treated of history and kindred subjects, was 69.63, or more than twen ty years in excess of that of the Roman poets. — The results of the investigations concerning Bri tish historians agree with those in a majority of similar tables, in showing that there was a less favorable duration of life in persons born in the seventeenth century than those born in the six teenth, with a recovery and improvement in persons born during the eighteenth. As regards the comparative duration of life among the mar ried and single members of the literary profes sion, the advantage is in favor of the married men. Turning to scientific men, whom Dr. Guy Bub divided into (1) mathematicians and astrono mers, (2) chemists and natural philosophers, and (3) naturalists, he foudU no great difference in the average duration of life; but it was a cu rious fact that these classes showed no falling off in the length of life in the seventeenth cen tury corresponding to that which had been no ticed in previous classes, but gave a progressive improvement; the age at death has risen from 61.66 in the sixteenth century to 65.27 in the