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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 07, No. 39, January, 1861"

Such a union of work and
worship seems a proper adjunct to the profit and the peril.
There is a faint glimmer of coming dawn far away in the east, as we
go forth into the midsummer-night, and we catch the distant notes of
chanticleer, as he sounds his shrill _reveille_ to the day.
As my confused brain seeks repose, and my weary limbs sink into the
softness of the never-so-welcome bed, my thoughts fly to distant ones,
to whom I would whisper,--as I do to you who have so patiently burrowed
with me,--"Only love me for the dangers I have passed!"
But it is in vain that you long for a similar experience, my dear Laura
Matilda. Being the first, we are also the last women to whom these
subterranean passages will yield their mysteries, their windings, and
their wonders. Against all of my own sex the Pandemonian depths of the
Minnesota Mines are henceforth as obstinately barred as ever were the
golden gates of the Mohammedan Paradise.


A LONELY HOUSE.

"Some weighty crime that Heaven could not pardon,
A secret curse, on that old building hung,
And its deserted garden.


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