No pen can do justice to the feelings of gratitude which throbbed in the bosom of that father as he pressed his wife and children successively to his heart. His plans were soon laid. He had, by remittances to England on the outbreak of the war, provided his family against want, and thither they now bent their steps. Over his ruined country he shed many a tear, but, at such times, the smiles of his wife and children were ever ready to cheer his despondency; and as he gazed on his lovely family he felt that there was much yet in this world to bid him be happy. * * * * * “THOU HAST LOVED.” BY MRS. SEBA SMITH. Dearest, in thine eye’s deep light Is a look to tears allied— Sorrow struggling with delight, Each the other seeks to hide; Thou, the freighted ark of life Lonely floating on the sea, With thy being’s treasure rife— Thou hast wearied thus to be. Thou hast sent thy dove from thee— Forth hast launched thy dove of peace, And the branch, though green it be, Can it bid thy doubtings cease? Though it speak of hope the while, Verdant spots and sunny bowers, Can it bring thee back the smile That beguiled thy vacant hours? Take thy dove and fold its wing— Fold its ruffled wing to rest; Deluge airs around it ring: Let it nestle on thy breast. Dearest, all thy care is vain— Mark its trembling, weary wings; But it comes to thee again, And an olive branch it brings. Take it, bind it unto thee, Though the leaves are dim with tears; Such thy woman lot must be— Love and sorrow, hopes and fears. Bind the branch of promise ever To thy heart, with fear oppressed, Let the leaves of hope, oh! never, Withered, leave their place of rest. * * * * * VIOLA. BY JAMES ALDRICH. This simple chain of sunny hair, Thus braided by thy gentle hand, Anear my heart I ever wear, Since thou art gone to shadow-land. Whene’er upon the little gift Of thy sweet love my eye is cast, Will welcome memory come and lift The curtains of the silent Past! Ah! my fond heart, as well it may, Feels then, in all its depth anew, That which, when thou wait called away, Ennobled and immortal grew! Lost one! to thee I’ll constant prove, Long as I walk this mortal strand, So may I claim thy perfect love When we shall meet in shadow-land. * * * * * [Illustration: _PAINTED BY LUCY ADAMS._, _ENGRAVED BY H. S. SADD._ _Morning Prayer._ _Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine_] * * * * * MORNING PRAYER.