"Seven young children mourned around the lifeless corpse. They were the sole beings upon that desolate spot. Did the mother indulge the grief of her spirit, and sit down in despair? No: she entered upon the arduous and sacred duties of her station. She felt that there was no hand to assist her in burying her dead. Providing, as far as possible, for the comfort of her little ones, she put her babe into the arms of the oldest, and charged the two next in age to watch the corpse of their father. She unmoored her husband's fishing boat, which, but two days before, he had guided over the seas, to obtain food for his family. She dared not yield to those tender recollections, which might have unnerved her arm. The nearest island was at the distance of three miles. Strong winds lashed the waters to foam. Over the loud billows, that wearied and sorrowful woman rowed, and was preserved. She reached the next island, and obtained the necessary aid. With such energy did her duty to her desolate babes inspire her, that the voyage which depended on her individual effort, was performed in a shorter time than the returning one, when the oars were managed by two men, who went to assist in the last offices to the dead." MRS. JAMES K. POLK. A fault doth never with remorse Our minds so deeply move, As when another's guiltless life Our error doth reprove. BRANDON. Sarah Childress Polk is the daughter of an enterprising and wealthy merchant of Rutherford county, Tennessee. She was married on the first of January, 1824. Fitted to dignify and adorn any station appropriate for woman, while presiding at the White house she was universally esteemed, and retired as honorably as any woman since the days of Washington. She is intelligent, refined, unaffected, affable, courteous, hospitable, and, above all, pious, and exemplary as a Christian. She has been for years in communion with the Presbyterians; and while at the Capital, and the eyes of the whole nation were upon her, she forbade, in the President's mansion, any amusement not in keeping with the Christian profession. In this respect, it may be said of her, in the language of Shakspeare, Thou art not for the fashion of these times. The following poetical tribute, from the pen and heart of Mrs. Stephens, is well merited: LADY! had I the wealth of earth To offer freely at thy shrine, Bright gold, and buds of dewy birth, Or gems from out the teeming mine, A thousand things most beautiful, All sparkling, precious, rich, and rare, These hands would render up to thee-- Thou noble lady, good and fair! For, as I write, sweet thoughts arise Of times when all thy kindness lent A thousand hues of Paradise To the fleet moments as they went; Then all thy thoughts were winged with light, And every smile was calm and sweet, And thy low tones and gentle words Made the warm heart's blood thrill and beat.