Thy meek and reverent nature cheer'd the heart Of hoary Age even in thine early bloom, And with sweet tenderness of filial care, And perfect sympathy, thy shielding arm Pillow'd a Mother's head, till life went out. We yield thee back, with sound of holy hymns, Flowers in thy hand, and bosom,--parting gifts Of Spring, that makes our earth so beautiful, Faintly prefiguring thine eternal gain Of flowers that never fade and skies that need Not sun nor moon to light them. So farewell, Our grief is selfish, yet it hath its way, Nor can we stand beside thine open grave Without a tear. Yet still doth chasten'd faith Ask help of God, to render back with praise A soul to which He gave the victory. MISS FRANCES WYMAN TRACY, Adopted daughter of Mrs. WILLIAM TRACY, died at New York, in 1860, aged 17. O young and beautiful, thy step Was light with fairy grace, And well the music of thy voice Accorded with thy face, And blent with those attractive charms How fair it was to see Thy tenderness for her who fill'd A Mother's place to thee. Yet all the pure and holy ties Thus round thy being wove, They are not lost, they are not dead, They have a life above. What though the sleepless care of love Might not avail to save, And sorrow with her dropping tear Keeps vigil o'er thy grave, Faith hath a rainbow for the cloud, A solace for the pain, A promise from the Book Divine To rise, nor part again. DEACON NORMAND SMITH, Died at Hartford, May 22d, 1860, aged 87. One saintly man the less, to teach us how Wisely to live,--one blest example more To teach us how to die. Fourscore and seven, Swept not the beauty of his brow away, Nor quell'd his voice of music, nor impair'd The social feeling that through all his life Ran like a thread of gold. In filial arms Close wrapp'd with watchful tenderness, he trod Jordan's cold brink. The world was beautiful, But Christ's dear love so wrought within his heart That to depart seem'd better. Many a year He lent his influence to the church he loved, For unity and peace, and countless gems Dropp'd from his lips when the last sickness came, To fortify young pilgrims in the course That leads to glory and eternal life. As the frail flesh grew weak, the soul look'd forth With added brightness thro' the clear, dark eye, As though it saw unutterable things, Or heard the welcome of beloved ones Who went to rest before him. So, with smiles, And prayers and holy hymns, and loving words He laid the burden of the body down, And slept in Jesus. MRS. HELEN TYLER BEACH, Wife of Mr. C. N. BEACH, died at Philadelphia, July 30th, 1860. How strange that One who yesterday Shed radiance round her sphere, Thus, in the prime of life and health, Should slumber on the bier.