sent from the far-off banks of the Ohio—a curious species of the Michigan rose, accompanied by a prayer that she would plant it on the grave of Mrs. Hemans. To no hand could it have been more appropriately transmitted, than to the hand which wrote so reverently and so rapturously of the genius of that gifted woman. Not only did L. E. L. (who missed the happiness of knowing Mrs. Hemans personally) pour out her love and praise in melodious verse, but in an essay on the character of her writings, admirably analyzed and asserted their claim to permanent remembrance. One solemn passage from this paper, will find here an appropriate place.

"Did we not know this world to be but a place of trial—our bitter probation for another and for a better—how strange in its severity would seem the lot of genius in a woman. The keen feeling—the generous enthusiasm—the lofty aspiration—and the delicate perception—are given but to make the possessor unfitted for her actual position. It is well; such gifts, in their very contrast to the selfishness and the evil with which they are surrounded, inform us of another world—they breathe of their home, which is Heaven! the spiritual and the inspired in this life but fit us to believe in that which is to come. With what a sublime faith is this divine reliance expressed in all Mrs. Hemans's later writings. As the clouds towards nightfall melt away on a fine summer evening into the clear amber of the west, leaving a soft and unbroken azure whereon the stars may shine through; so the troubles of life, its vain regrets and vainer desires, vanished before the calm close of existence—the hopes of Heaven rose steadfast at last—the light shone from the windows of her home as she approached unto it."