May not, in this sweet season, my meek prayer Rise near thine own? It is a prayer for thee, Gentle and pure, affectionate and fair, God guard thee ever! and around thee be Blessings like rays! Thine is a heart to throw A noble reflex from a manly mate, To give his loftiest pulse a loftier glow, And shed o’er all his path a purer fate. Gentle as thou art may thy summers be! Sweet as thy voice and gentle as thy smile! And hopes that know no winter give to thee All that is sweetest, surest! all that, while The clouded earth obscures, has power to light The soul upon that path that never knows a night. * * * * * SPEAK KINDLY. BY KATE SUTHERLAND. “Gracious, girl!” exclaimed Mrs. Lindley, thrown suddenly off of her guard, and turning, with a frown, upon a young lady who had accidentally trodden upon her dress as she was almost forced down the stairs of the Musical Fund Hall, at the breaking up of a crowded concert. “I am sorry, ma’am,” said the young lady, gently; “it was entirely an accident.” “People ought to look where they put their feet!” muttered Mrs. Lindley, frowning another reproof upon the blushing girl; and then, with a dignified toss of the head, resuming her march down the stairs, letting the crowd, that had been momentarily checked in its downward tendency, move on again more freely. “I should call that a poor specimen of a refined lady,” remarked the gentleman upon whose arm the girl so rudely addressed was leaning, as they gained the street. “I hope we shall not find her a representative of Philadelphia good breeding.” “Oh, no! I presume not,” was the answer. “New York has plenty just like her; and I would be very sorry if strangers were to estimate all by the standard they afford.” “Very true! How weak and foolish it is,” remarked the young man, “for people to lose temper at every trifle. If the person who gave us so fine a specimen of amiability to-night, has any right feelings about her, she was not ten steps from the door of the concert-room before a feeling of shame took the place of anger. But, whether this be so or not, I would much rather have your feelings than hers on the occasion.” “So would I. And yet an incident like this cannot but disturb the feelings. To be spoken to insultingly, in the midst of strangers, is far from being pleasant.” “It is. But no one suffers in the estimation of those who happen to be present when such things occur, but the individual who so far outrages all good breeding as to resent a trifling accident with ill nature.”