Affliction now our hearts has proved, And shown our passion's depth more clearly; In joy we might have known we loved, But grief has taught us, oh! how dearly. The foregoing was written by a gentleman of fine genius, and is published without the author's knowledge. For the Southern Literary Messenger. EXTEMPORAL LINES. On hearing Mr. Wickham's Speech at the Bar of the House of Delegates, on the 6th instant. When Wickham stood up at the bar of the House, And every one there was as still as a mouse, I trembled myself, (to acknowledge the truth,) Lest his age should forget the fine feats of his youth; And I thought that his Horace had warned him in vain, "Release the old racer in time from the rein, Lest he falter at length in a laughable pace, And finish his course in diverting disgrace." But soon, very soon, all my fears were relieved, And hopes took their places that were not deceived; For I saw that his motions were sprightly and strong, And, spite of his weights, he went gaily along, Till, safe at the goal, pleasure broke from my lips, And I cried out delighted, "hurrah for Eclipse!"[1] _January, 1835_. [Footnote 1: Solve senescentem maturè sanus equum, ne Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat. _Hor. Epist. Lib. i. 1._] MRS. WOOD'S MANUSCRIPT POEMS. The pious and excellent Mrs. JEAN WOOD, who died in this city some years since, was the relict of General James Wood, a distinguished officer of the revolution, and afterwards Governor of Virginia. The qualities for which she was remarkable, were familiarly known to a very large circle of friends, by whom, at least such as survive her, her memory is still held dear. She was indeed in the justest sense, a mother in Israel,--a lady of shining christian benevolence, whose kindly feelings towards her race did not consist in mere sentiment only,--but were evinced in a life of active, useful, and unostentatious charities and labors of love. Her piety moreover, though profound and ardent, was free from austerity; and there was a grace and cheerfulness in her manner and conversation, which won upon all of every age and condition who approached her. Well known as she was however, and universally respected for her virtues, there were but few comparatively who were apprised of her varied endowments or who knew that her practical good sense and experienced judgment were united to the lighter attractions and more ornamental graces of the intellectual character. Literature was to her the solace which refreshed the intervals in her works of goodness; it furnished that balmy repose to the spirit,--which it often needs amidst the conflicts and agitations of human life, even in its most favored condition. The proud, the selfish and avaricious, or the gay and luxurious, may each indulge in his own enjoyment or follow his own delusive phantom,--but next to the