Of course, I lingered longest in the babies' room, and longest of all near the crib of the little Cecilio. He was a pretty baby, and seemed to me the most ill-used of all, because the youngest. "Could they not bear with you three weeks, little fellow?" I said. "I know those at whose firesides such as you would have been welcome guests. That New York woman whom I met lately, young, rich, and childless,--I could commend you to her in place of the snarling little spaniel fiend who was her constant care and companion." But here the superintendent made a polite bow, saying,--"And now your Worships have seen all; for the chapel is undergoing repairs, and cannot be visited." And so we thanked, and departed. DANIEL GRAY. If I shall ever win the home in heaven For whose sweet rest I humbly hope and pray, In the great company of the forgiven I shall be sure to find old Daniel Gray. I knew him well; in fact, few knew him better; For my young eyes oft read for him the Word, And saw how meekly from the crystal letter He drank the life of his beloved Lord. Old Daniel Gray was not a man who lifted On ready words his freight of gratitude, And was not called upon among the gifted, In the prayer-meetings of his neighborhood. He had a few old-fashioned words and phrases, Linked in with sacred texts and Sunday rhymes; And I suppose, that, in his prayers and graces, I've heard them all at least a thousand times. I see him now,--his form, and face, and motions, His homespun habit, and his silver hair,-- And hear the language of his trite devotions Rising behind the straight-backed kitchen-chair. I can remember how the sentence sounded,-- "Help us, O Lord, to pray, and not to faint!" And how the "conquering-and-to-conquer" rounded The loftier aspirations of the saint. He had some notions that did not improve him: He never kissed his children,--so they say; And finest scenes and fairest flowers would move him Less than a horseshoe picked up in the way. He could see nought but vanity in beauty, And nought but weakness in a fond caress, And pitied men whose views of Christian duty Allowed indulgence in such foolishness. Yet there were love and tenderness within him; And I am told, that, when his Charley died, Nor Nature's need nor gentle words could win him From his fond vigils at the sleeper's side. And when they came to bury little Charley, They found fresh dew-drops sprinkled in his hair, And on his breast a rose-bud, gathered early,-- And guessed, but did not know, who placed it there. My good old friend was very hard on fashion, And held its votaries in lofty scorn, And often burst into a holy passion While the gay crowds went by, on Sunday morn.