Yet it cannot be denied that even such hermitesses find compensations in their retirement. If one resolve to remain single,--and it must require strength of mind to come to this determination,--it is remarkable how Nature fits such a woman for a position for which she could not have been created. She takes her stand with a power of endurance not exceeded by that of the other sex, and becomes more independent and at ease than they. Let man's condition be what it may, whether rich or poor, he will find his home cheerless and uncomfortable without the presence of a woman. His desolateness at an hotel or boarding-house is proverbial. He is unceasingly conscious that he has no home. But the single woman can create one for herself. Go into the cells of any prison for women, and those who never visited such abodes will be astonished at the neatness, the order, the embellishments, which many of them display. The home feeling that seems to be natural to most of us develops itself here with affecting energy. No man could surround his penitential cell with graces so profuse and pleasing as do some of these unfortunate women. Thus, go where a woman may, a native instinct teaches and qualifies her to make a home for herself. If single, taste and housewifery are combined within even the narrow limits of one or two rooms. Her singleness need not chill the heart,--for there are other things to love than men. The power to make tender friendships was born with her, and is part of her nature; nor does it leave her now. She has, moreover, the proud satisfaction of knowing that she has never lived to tempt others to an act of sin and shame. But are the men who live equally solitary lives as guiltless as she? GOING TO SLEEP. I. The light is fading down the sky, The shadows grow and multiply, I hear the thrushes' evening song; But I have borne with toil and wrong So long, so long! Dim dreams my drowsy senses drown,-- So, darling, kiss my eyelids down! II. My life's brief spring went wasted by,-- My summer ended fruitlessly; I learned to hunger, strive, and wait,-- I found you, love,--oh, happy fate!-- So late, so late! Now all my fields are turning brown,-- So, darling, kiss my eyelids down! III. Oh, blessed sleep! oh, perfect rest! Thus pillowed on your faithful breast, Nor life nor death is wholly drear, O tender heart, since you are here, So dear, so dear! Sweet love, my soul's sufficient crown! Now, darling, kiss my eyelids down! DOCTOR JOHNS. XX.