of spirits I rather lose ground.” Still, there are hidden springs of comfort. “The head and flower of my earthly happiness is cut off. But I am _not_ unhappy.” “When I give way to tears, which is only in darkness or solitude, they are not tears of unmingled pain.” All beloved ones grew more precious; the noble fortitude of his wife made her more than ever a portion of his best self. His uncle’s boy, Edward, he could not love more than he had loved him before; but, “as far as possible, he will be to me hereafter,” writes Southey, “in the place of my son.” And in truth the blessing of Herbert’s boyhood remained with him still; a most happy, a most beautiful boyhood it had been; he was thankful for having possessed the child so long; “for worlds I would not but have been his father.” “I have abundant blessings left; for each and all of these I am truly thankful; but of all the blessings which God has given me, this child, who is removed, is the one I _still_ prize the most.” To relieve feelings which he dared not utter with his lips, he thought of setting about a monument in verse for Herbert and himself, which might make one inseparable memory for father and son. A page or two of fragmentary thoughts in verse and prose for this poetic monument exists, but Southey could not keep his imagination enough above his heart to dare to go on with it; to do so would have dissolved his heart anew. One or two of these holy scriptures of woe, truly red drops of Southey’s life-blood, will tell enough of this love passing the love of women. “Thy life was a day; and sum it well, life is but a week of such days—with how much storm and cold and darkness! Thine was a sweet spring day—a vernal Sabbath, all sunshine, hope, and promise.” * * * * * “And that name In sacred silence buried, which was still At morn and eve the never-wearying theme Of dear discourse.” * * * * * “Playful thoughts Turned now to gall and esil.” * * * * * “No more great attempts, only a few autumnal flowers like second primroses, etc.” * * * * * “They who look for me in our Father’s kingdom Will look for him also; inseparably Shall we be remembered.” * * * * * “Come, then, Pain and Infirmity—appointed guests, My heart is ready.”