'Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy: God has none. And man's forgiveness may be true and sweet, But yet he stoops to give it. More complete Is Love that lays forgiveness at thy feet, And pleads with thee to raise it. Only Heaven Means _crowned_, not _vanquished_, when it says, 'Forgiven!'' Again, in 'The Present:' 'Noble things the great Past promised, Holy dreams, both strange and new; But the Present shall fulfil them, What he promised she shall do. * * * * * 'She is wise with all his wisdom, Living on his grave she stands, On her brow she bears his laurels, And _his harvest in her hands_.' 'Links with Heaven' is a continued series of tender, original thoughts, expressed in the same terse and striking, but simple manner. 'Homeless,' 'Treasures,' 'Incompleteness,' 'Light and Shade,' are, among the smaller poems, fine specimens of her distinguishing merits; while of the longer, 'Three Evenings in a Life,' 'Philip and Mildred,' and 'Homeward Bound' cannot fall to charm all who love to read a real page from the experience of humanity. Both Jean Ingelow and Adelaide Procter are thoroughly penetrated by profound religious convictions, the faith and charity of the latter being especially vivid and pervading. The one has a preponderance of the beautiful gift of a rich fancy, while to the other was given in greater degree the power of the penetrative and sympathetic imagination. The one, as we read, recalls to us a glittering heap of precious, shining jewels; the other, the first cluster of spring violets, wreaths of virginal lilies and midsummer roses, growths of cypress sound to the core, rosemary, sage, and all healing herbs, branches of scarlet maple leaves, and lovely wayside gentians, adorned by the hand of the Great Artist, and blue as heaven itself. But a little while ago, the Angel, Death, 'who comes in love and pity, and, to save our treasures, claims them all,' bore away her pure soul along the 'misty pathway' to everlasting peace and joy. L.D.P. * * * * *