Life's sun at setting, may shed brighter rays Than when it rose, and threescore years and ten May wear a beauty that youth fails to reach: The beauty of a fitness for the skies,-- Such nearness to the angels, that their song "Peace and good will," like key-tone rules the soul, And the pure reflex of their smile illumes The meekly lifted brow. She taught us this,-- And then went home. MISS ALICE BECKWITH, Died at Hartford, September 23d, 1859. The beautiful hath fled To join the spirit-train; Earth interposed with strong array, Love stretch'd his arms to bar her way, All,--all in vain. There was a bridal hope Before her crown'd with flowers; The orange blossoms took the hue With which the cypress dank with dew Darkeneth our bowers. Affections strong and warm Sprang round her gentle way, Young Childhood, with a moisten'd eye, And Friendship's tenderest sympathy Watch'd her decay. Disease around her couch Long held a tyrant sway, Till vanished from her cheek, the rose, And the fair flesh like vernal snows Wasted away. Yet the dark Angel's touch Dissolv'd that dire control, And where the love-knot cannot break Nor pain nor grief intrusion make, Bore the sweet soul. MARY SHIPMAN DEMING, Died at Hartford, Nov. 11th, 1839, aged 4 years and 6 months. The garner'd Jewel of our heart, The Darling of our tent! Cold rains were falling thick and fast, When forth from us she went. The sweetest blossom on our tree, When droop'd her fairy head, We might not lay her 'mid the flowers, For all the flowers were dead. The youngest birdling of our nest, Her song from us hath fled; Yet mingles with a purer strain That floats above our head. We gaze,--her wings we may not see: We listen,--all in vain: But when this wintry life is o'er, We'll hear her voice again. REV. DR. F. W. HATCH, Died at Sacramento, California, January 16th, 1860, aged 70. A pleasant theme it is to think of him That parted friend, whose noble heart and mind Were ever active to the highest ends. Even sceptics paid him homage 'mid their doubts, Perceiving that his life made evident A goodness not of earth. His radiant brow And the warm utterance of his lustrous eye Told how the good of others triumph'd o'er All narrowness of self. He deem'd it not A worthy aim of Christ's true ministry To chaffer for the gold that perisheth Or waste its God-given powers on lifeless forms; But love of souls, and love of Him who died That they might live, gave impulse to his zeal. --And so, while half a century chronicled The change of empires, and the fall of kings And death of generations like the leaves That strew the forest 'neath autumnal skies, He toil'd unswerving in that One Great Cause To which the vigor of his youth was given.