Daily we pay the cost

'Of our slow schooling for divine degree.

'We know no means to feed an undying lamp, 'Our lights go out in every wind and damp.

Though deepest dark our efforts should enfold, 'Unwearied mine to find the vein of gold; 'Forget not oft to waft the prayer on high ;· 'The rosy dawn again shall fill the sky.

-

And by that lovely light all truth revealed, -
'The cherished forms, which sad distrust concealed,
Transfigured, yet the same, will round us stand,
The kindred angels of a faithful band;

Ruby and ebon cross then cast aside,

'No lamp more needed, for the night has died.

"Be to the best thou knowest ever true,"

Is all the creed.

Then be thy talisman of rosy hue,

'Or fenced with thorns, that wearing, thou must bleed,

'Or, gentle pledge of love's prophetic view,

The faithful steps it will securely lead.

"He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend ; Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cure

For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them. Where sorrow's held intrusive, and turned out, There wisdom will not enter, nor true power,

Nor aught that dignifies humanity."

TAYLOR.

"That time of year thou may'st in me behold,

When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day,

As after sunset fadeth in the west;

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie;
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

--

Consumed with that which it was nourished by."
SHAKSPEARE. [Sonnet Ixxiii.]

"Aber zufrieden mit stillerem Ruhme,

Brechen die Frauen des Augenblick's Blume,
Nähren sie sorgsam mit liebendem Fleiss,
Freier in ihrem gebundenen Wirken,
Reicher als er in des Wissens Bezirken
Und in der Dichtung unendlichem Kreiz.”

"Not like to like, but like in difference;

SCHILLER.

Yet in the long years liker must they grow, -
The man be more of woman, she of man ;

He gain in sweetness and in moral height,

Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world;
She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care;

More as the double-natured poet each;

Till at the last she set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words."

TENNYSON.

VII.

NEW YORK.

LEAVING HOME.

INCESSANT exertion in teaching and writing, added to pecuniary anxieties and domestic cares, had so exhausted Margaret's energy, in 1844, that she felt a craving for fresh interests, and resolved to seek an entire change of scene amid freer fields of action.

"The tax on my mind is such,' she writes, 'and I am 'so unwell, that I can scarcely keep up the spring of my 'spirits, and sometimes fear that I cannot go through 'with the engagements of the winter. But I have never 'stopped yet in fulfilling what I have undertaken, and 'hope I shall not be compelled to now. How farcical 'seems the preparation needed to gain a few moments' 'life; yet just so the plant works all the year round for 'a few days' flower.'

But in brighter mood she says, again: 'I congratu'late myself that I persisted, against every persuasion, 'in doing all I could last winter; for now I am and shall 'be free from debt, and I look on the position of debtor 'with a dread worthy of some respectable Dutch burgo'master. My little plans for others, too, have suc'ceeded; our small household is well arranged, and all 'goes smoothly as a wheel turns round. Mother, more'over, has learned not to be over-anxious when I suffer,