into tears.

pages of a periodical; and when she saw it in print, she burst The following effusion was addressed to the same nephew, when somewhat older, to console him for the loss of a favorite dog:

"The purest bliss that man enjoys below
ls but a mixture of delight and woe,-
Composed of transitory, fleeting joys,

Which time still lessens, and at length destroys.
Even the gay visions of our earliest years

Are dimmed by sorrow and defaced with tears;
So you, dear boy, are thus constrained to know
The pang of grief, and taste the cup of woe.
Might not your tender age avert the dart
Of keen misfortune from your shrinking heart?
Nor even the shield of strong affection save
Your fond companion from the silent grave?
How oft your cheek has warmed with conscious pride
To see him play and gambol by your side.
How oft your bosom with enchantment glowed

At his caresses on yourself bestowed,

When, after absence from your pleasant home

To bid you welcome he would bounding come.

Yet hush the grief that swells your mournful breast:
He sinks to quiet shades of peaceful rest:

He sleeps as sweet, as safe from all alarms,
As when protected by your guardian arms.”

Another poem greets the birth of the second, and youngest child of her beloved sister.

"She comes, a little stranger here below,

Where mingled streams of pain and pleasure flow;
Where fragrant flowers, and thorns promiscuous rise,
And light and shade, alternate, fill the skies.
Welcome, sweet image of a spotless soul,
Whose mind no guilt, nor gloomy fears control,--
Whose smiling dreams, approving angels tend,
And o'er their charge with uuseen pinions bend.
Like some sweet cherub from the realms of rest,
Of all its native purity possessed,

She thinks no ill, nor future danger fears,

Nor sees the forms disordered Fancy rears.

Her infant wants, our constant care attends,

From suffering guards her, and from harm defends $
But the strong thought, the comprehensive mind,
The genius active, towering, unconfined,
The powers, above our narrow orb to rise
And trace the planets in the boundless skies.--
These are the gift of him who called to birth,
Revolving spheres, and formed this latter earth.
Oh, may he listen to our fervent prayer
And make our babe his own peculiar care,-

Grant her soul contented and serene,
Good sense, good temper, and a modest mien.
We will not ask for beauty's dazzling blaze,
Nor wit's illusive and enchanting rays;
Enough, if virtue's solar beam shall shine
To guide her safely, till her days decline:-
So shall her charms, when life's short day is past,
Unfading flourish and eternal last,-

And death translate them to that blessed abode

Where stainless spirits throng the throne of God."

Hitherto, the course of the sweet poet had been without a cloud. The first sorrow that shadowed her youthful path was painful sympathy for her only sister, the protracted absence of whose husband on a voya re caused the most agonizing suspense. which at length, (no intelligence ever being received of the ship in which he sailed) deepened into the dark gloom of widowhood. She continued as long as possible, to spread the scattered fragments of hope before the eyes of the anxious family; but even while the smile trembled on her lips, her private papers revealed with what prostration of spirit she retired to weep for the bereaved and fatherless."

"The light that cheer'd their darkened way,

No more emits its guiding ray,—

The arm, their feeble steps that staid,
No more affords its needful aid,—

The eye that wept if theirs should weep,

1s seal'd in death's oblivious sleep,

The heart that felt for all their woes

Is hushed in undisturb'd repose;

No more their friend, their gentle guide
Shall o'er their devious path preside,

Through life's dark gloom their steps direct,
And from its gathering ills protect.

Oh Thou! to whom our prayers ascend,
The widow's judge, the orphan's friend,
With mercy's cheering ray illume
Our lonely passage to the tomb,
And when the storms of time are past
Receive us to thy rest at last,

Where to the pardon'd soul is given
The pure, unbroken rest of heaven."

From her deep, sisterly sympathy sprang forth a noble principle, the desire, personally, to assist those who, who by this visitation, had sustained an entire reverse of fortune, and found every earthly prospect darkened. She made proposals, and obtained the consent of her parents, to engage in the work of edu

cation, and with an energy that astonished the friends who knew the diffidence of her nature, and the affluence in which she had been fostered, decided to become a member of a school, in a distant part of the State, in order to acquire that knowledge of painting, embroidery in silk, and some other accomplishments, which were in those days deemed esssential for a teacher of young ladies. Then she, whose sensitive spirit had ever shrunk from association with strangers, and whose love for her own pleasant, sheltering home, was almost a morbid sentiment, braved privation and inconvenience for several months, without a murmur. There she might be seen, in the coldest winter mornings, taking her walk to school, attending throughout the day, with a perseverance that allowed no moment to be lost to those pursuits which were to qualify her for a sphere of future labor ;-and in the evening, by the parlor fire of her boarding-house, or in her own little chamber, engaged with her needle, and in long and beautifully written letters to the friends over whom her heart yearned, and for whom she sometimes, in secret, struck the mournful lyre.

"Oh Thou, who know'st the lot they share,

And who can'st well bestow

The balm that soothes corrosive care,
And heals the wounds of woe,-

If dangers daunt their trembling heart,
Or anxious fear assail,

Be thou their trust, their sure support,
When earthly helpers fail.

Assure them that thy ways are just,
And all thy counsels wise,

Nor let them e'er thy love distrust,
Nor frown with skeptic eyes.
From Thee, each bleesing we derive;
By thee is sorrow given;—

May grief instruct us how to live,
And point the path to Heaven.

When gathering clouds obscure the sky,
And howls the sullen storm,

With what enchantment we descry

The rainbow's glorious form;

So may Thy mercy gild the gloom

Of destiny severe,

Sustain the sufferer to the tomb,

And dry affliction's tear.

After her return home, she faithfully and successfully engaged

in the instruction of young ladies, with an associate, whom, from her own school-days, she had continued to love, and the time passed usefully and happily. She and this friend, with some on their pupils, became boarders in the house of her sister; and the consciousness that she was useful to others, gave at times, an almost celestial expression to her lovely countenance. The pleasures, or occasional trials of the day, formed a theme for twilight communing with the sharer of her toils, and they found how every semblance vanished away, when divided by the hand of friendship. Eminently was her nature formed for such friendship. The troubles of her friends were her own.—their praises seemed more than her own, for she took them into her heart, with warm gratulation, while her own she examined with scrutiny, with a severe humility, which half-rejected them as unjust. Constitutional diffidence guarded her from promiscuous intimacies, while her exquisite sensibility, high integrity, and disinterested spirit, gave to the attachments she eventually formed, an inviolable constancy. It was during this pleasant period of her life. that she wrote the following stanzas:

EPITAPH ON MYSELF.

"Stranger! beneath this stone, in silence sleeps
What once had animation, reason, life;
And while in vain the eye of friendship weeps,
The bosom rests, unvexed by mortal strife.

No more the smiles of joy illume the face,

Nor health's fair roses on the cheek shall bloom;
Forever fled the gaiety and grace

Of sprightly youth; they gleam not o'er the tomb.

Oh stranger, pause! So shall thy graces die;
Thy talents, birth and fortune all decay;
Thus low in dust thy lifeless form shall lie,
And power and wealth and honor pass away.

Love not too well the empty breath of fame,
Nor wrap thy heart in hoards of glittering store;
Death spares not, for the tinkling of a name :
He points his shaft, and greatness is no more.

No arms escutcheon'd on the lowly stone
Reveal the titled greatness of the dead:
To proud ambition and to fame unknown,
Was she who slumbers in this mouldering bed.

What tho' no gathering crowds assembled round
Her fiual home, or grac'd the funeral bier;
Believe not that this undistinguish'd ground
Was never moistened by affection's tear.

For who, so vile, so unbelov'd can live,
So unlamented to the grave descend,
That sympathy no tribute has to give,

Nor sad remembrance moves one mournful friend!

Still more effectually to shelter the widowed sister, with her two little children, her parents left their pleasant mansion, and became inmates under her roof; and the subject of this memoir, relinquishing for a time the school, devoted her whole being to their comfort, and to such social, intellectual and benevolent pursuits, as her nature, taste and sense of her religious responsibility dictated.

Though her attachments to her parents, relatives, and chosen friends, were so great, that she emphatically lived for them, more than for herself,-it had been evident from infancy, that the love of her father was peculiar and predominant. In their intellectual tastes, there existed a strong congeniality, he had made himself, from childhood, the companion of her pleasures, as well as her studies; and when to the weight of advancing years was added the pressure of adverse fortune, her affection became inexpressibly tender and pervading. It was a touching mixture of deep respect and fond devotedness, a delight in his company,—a desire to protect him from all anxiety,-an indwelling of his image in her perpetual thought. To the friend who shared her entire confidence, she sometimes expressed the feeling, that she should never be able to survive him. But sudden and fearful sickness came. Night and day she watched him, without consciousness of fatigue, she was unwilling that any hand save her own should prepare or administer medicine or nourishment. When the finished work of the destroyer became but too evident, she determined not to leave his pillow while breath remained ;—but “Oh,” said she, can I endure to hear his last groan!" Having never seen death, she supposed it was always attended with convulsion and But and had nerved herself for the terrific scene. agony, when she beheld the quiet, peaceful dissolution, and was assured by the physicians, that the spirit had departed, she clasped her hands with the exclamation. "Can this indeed be death!" and