“If I could do anything to earn money and help I should be so much happier. Poor papa got a good deal lately for his pictures; but they were so clever. Lewis can paint beautifully, but my drawings are so tame. I wonder whether people would buy poetry. I wish I knew whether my verses are good enough to induce any one to purchase them. Dearest papa praised those lines of mine which he accidentally found one day. Of course he was a good judge, only perhaps he liked them because they were mine.” And the tears rolled silently down her pale cheeks as memory brought before her the glance of bright and surprised approval, the warm yet judicious praise, the tender criticism--words, looks, and tones of love now lost to her for ever, which the accidental discovery of her verses had drawn forth. With an aching heart she closed the casement, and lighting a candle, proceeded to unlock a small writing-desk, from whence she drew some manuscript verses, which ran as follows:-- THE PREACHER’S ADDRESS TO THE SOUL. Weary soul, Why dost thou still disquiet Thyself with senseless riot, Taking thy fill and measure Of earthly pleasure? The things which thou dost prize Are not realities; All is but seeming. Waking, thou still liest dreaming. That which before thine eye Now passeth, or hath past, Is nought but vanity-- It cannot last. This evil world, be sure, Shall not endure. Art thou a-weary, Soul, and dost thou cry For rest? Wait, and thou soon shalt have That thou dost crave, For Death _is real_--the Grave _no mockery_. THE SOUL’S REPLY. Preacher, too dark thy mood; God made this earth-- At its primeval birth “God saw that it was good.” And if through Adam’s sin Death enter’d in, Hath not Christ died to save Me from the grave? Repented sins for His sake are forgiven-- There is a heaven. For that this earth is no abiding-place, Shall we displace The flowers that God hath scatter’d on our path-- The kindly hearth; The smile of love still brightening as we come, Making the desert, home; The seventh day of rest, the poor man’s treasure Of holy leisure; Bright sunshine, happy birds, the joy of flowers?