EPITAPH ON AN OLD MAID.

EST, gentle traveler, on life's toilsome way; Pause here awhile; yet o'er this lifeless clay No weeping, but a joyful tribute pay.

For this green nook, by sun and showers made warm,
Gives welcome rest to an o'erwearied form,
Whose mortal life knew many a wintry storm.

Yet, ere the spirit gained a full release,

From earth, she had attained that land of peace, Where seldom clouds obscure, where tempests cease.

No chosen spot of ground she called her own; She reaped no harvest in her spring-time sown, Yet always in her path some flowers were strown.

No dear ones were her own peculiar care,
So was her bounty free as heaven's air;
For every claim she had enough to spare.

And loving more the heart to give than lend,
Though oft deceived in many a trusty friend,
She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end.

She had her joys; 'twas joy to live, to love,
To labor in the world with God above,
And tender hearts that ever near did move.

She had her griefs; but why recount them here— The heart-sick loneness, the onlooking fear,

The days of desolation, dark and drear.

Since every agony left peace behind,
And healing came on every stormy wind,
And with pure brightness every cloud was lined.

And every loss sublimed some low desire,
And every sorrow helped her to aspire,
Till waiting angels bade her go up higher!

Englishwoman's Journal.

COUSIN JANE.

WHAT do people think of her?

Old Cousin Jane,

With a sallow, sunken cheek,
Hair with many a silver streak,
Features never made for show,
Eyes that faded long ago,

Brows no longer smooth and fair,
Form bent o'er with pain and care;

Sad to be so old and plain,
Slighted Cousin Jane!

What do we all think of her?
Our Cousin Jane?

Quieting the children's noise,
Mending all the broken toys,
Doing deftly, one by one,
Duties others left undone,
Gliding round the sick one's bed
With a noiseless foot and tread;
Who like her to soothe in pain?
Useful Cousin Jane!

K*

What do angels think of her?
Our Cousin Jane?

Bearing calmly every cross,

Finding gain, though seeking loss,
And a beauty ever bright
In the rigid line of right,
Self-forgetting, free from art,
With a loving, cheerful heart,
Living, aye, for others gain,
Saintly Cousin Jane!

Would that thinking oft of her—
Our Cousin Jane-

Might our inward vision clear,
To behold the unseen near,
And in forms of dullest hue,
Heaven's own beauty shining through!
Reached that land of purest day,
Passed-misjudging earth away.
What radiance will she then attain!
Star-crowned Cousin Jane!

FULL many a gem of purest ray serene

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste (?) its sweetness on the desert air

Thomas Gray.

PATIENCE and abnegation of self, and devotion to others,

This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught

her.

So was her love diffused, but, like some odorous spices, Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with aroma. Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour.

From Evangeline-Part ii.

AND thou, when thou seest the sparrow fall,

goodly ship suffer wreck, do not forget that we see merely

a portion of the history; that its last chapter rests in the bosom of Eternal Love! Let us meekly wait.

Chronicles of the Schonberg Cotta Family.

From an "Extra Leaf on Daughter-full Houses."

FORSAKEN, but patient one! misknown and mistreated!

Think not of the times when thou hadst hope of better than the present are, and repent the noble pride of thy heart never! It is not always our duty to marry, but it is always our duty to abide by right, not to purchase happiness by loss of honor, not to avoid unweddedness by untruthfulness. Lonely, unadmired heroine! in thy last hour, when all life and the by-gone possessions and scaffoldings of life shall crumble in pieces, ready to fall down, in that hour thou wilt look back on thy untenanted life; no children, no husband, no wet eyes will be there; but in the empty dusk, one high, pure, angelic, smiling, beaming figure, godlike and mounting to the godlike, will hover, and beckon thee to mount with her. Mount thou with her; the figure is thy virtue.

Jean Paul Friedrich Richter.

IF THOU COULDST KNOW.

think if thou couldst know,

O soul that will complain
What lies concealed below

Our burden and our pain;

How just our anguish brings
Nearer those longed for things

We seek for now in vain,

I think thou wouldst rejoice and not complain.

I think if thou couldst see
With thy dim mortal sight,
How meanings dark to thee,'
Are shadows hiding light;

Truth's efforts crossed and vexed,

Life's purpose all perplexed

If thou couldst see them right,

I think that they would seem all clear, and wise and bright.

And yet thou canst not know,

And yet thou canst not see;
Wisdom and sight are slow
In poor humanity.

If thou couldst trust, poor soul,

In Him who rules the whole,

Thou wouldst find peace and rest;

Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best.

SOLITUDE OF SINGLE WOMEN

IT

up

her

is a condition to which a single woman must make mind, that the close of her days will be more or less solitary. Yet there is a solitude which old age feels to be as