The letters which form my name,
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To make duty my goal and my aim,
As the circles are held in the cross!
My life’s motto is writ in my name."
The first impression of life is that it was made for joy. That is the impression of the child. The second impression is, that it was made for joy, through love. That is the impression of youth, which some fortunate natures retain through early manhood. Then comes the terrible discovery that joy, even if found, and so found, is not permanent. Then the road of life which we all traverse thus far together, divides into two branches, one of which tempts with its cynical simulations of real happiness, and the other of which is plainly marked "sorrow and duty," but which holds out the promise of a celestial bourne of eternal calm. It is narrow and long, this last; and few there are that find it. It was found, and resolutely travelled to the end, by the impassioned but pious authoress of these poems, wherein the solemn journey is faithfully mirrored. Let us devoutly hope that she was not moving on footsore to a mirage; yet even were that so, I cannot doubt that she chose the better part. But it should never be forgotten that such a choice, though comparatively easy to the compounds of clay and locomotive power, whom we call men and women, is superlatively arduous to the ex-
