the tender and noble minds of our children, principles of truth and virtue, which shall abide with them for ever, is my constant prayer. From your husband, who will ever remain, devoted and affectionate, both in time and eternity, Don C. Smith. While Don Carlos was at work in the before mentioned cellar, he took a severe pain in his side, which was never altogether removed. About a fortnight prior to his death, his family were very sick; and in taking care of them, he caught a violent cold--a fever set in, and the pain in his side increased, and with all our exertions, we were unable to arrest the disease, which I have no doubt was consumption, brought on by his working in a damp room, in which he printed his paper. * * * * ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF THE DEARLY BELOVED AND MUCH LAMENTED FATHER IN ISRAEL, JOSEPH SMITH, SENIOR, A PATRIARCH IN THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS, WHO DIED AT NAUVOO, SEPTEMBER 14 1840. _By Miss E. R. Snow_. Zion's noblest sons are weeping; See her daughters bathed in tears, Where the Patriarch is sleeping Nature's sleep--the sleep of years. Hushed is every note of gladness-- Every minstrel bows full low-- Every heart is tuned to sadness-- Every bosom feels the blow. Zion's children loved him dearly; Zion was his daily care: That his loss is felt sincerely, Thousand weeping Saints declare; Thousands, who have shared his blessing, Thousands whom his service blessed, By his faith and prayers suppressing Evils which their lives opprest. Faith and works, most sweetly blended, Proved his steadfast heart sincere; And the power of God attended His official labors here; Long he stemmed the powers of darkness, Like an anchor in the flood: Like an oak amid the tempest, Bold and fearlessly he stood. Years have witnessed his devotions, By the love of God inspired, When his spirit's pure emotions, Were with holy ardor fired. Oft he wept for suffering Zion-- All her sorrows were his own: When she passed through grievous trials, Her oppressions weighed him down. Now he's gone, we'd not recall him From a paradise of bliss, Where no evil can befall him, To a changing world like this. His loved name will never perish, Nor his mem'ry crown the dust; For the Saints of God will cherish The remembrance of the JUST. Faith's sweet voice of consolation, Soothes our grief: his spirit's flown, Upward to a holier station, Nearer the celestial throne; There to plead the cause of Zion, In the council of the JUST-- In the court the Saints rely on, Pending causes to ADJUST.