"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and study found at first occupation, then strength and content. "The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a hidden blessing." ZENOBIA. BY MYRON L. MASON. 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills Were trembling with the tread of multitudes Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed The implements of toil. A common love Of country, and a zeal for her renown, Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day Plebian ardor with patrician pride. The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, Joined in bestowing on their emperor The joyous benedictions of the state. Alas! about that day's magnificence Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. Returning from his conquests in the East, Aurelian led in his triumphant train Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, Whose only crime had been the love she bore To her own country and her household gods.