earliest of her efforts, but it not unlikely received some improvements from the cultivated taste of later years:

The beauty of Israel for ever is fled,
And low are the noble and strong;
Ye children of music encircle the dead,
And chant the funereal song.

Oh speak not in Gath of the mighty laid low!
Be ye mute in proud Askelon's street!
Their daughters, in triumph at Israel's woe,
With scoffs the sad tidings would greet.

Ye mountains of Gilboa, never may dew
At eventide visit your flowers;

May the fruits which the fields of your offerings

strew,

Never welcome the soft summer showers.

While there, in his proud, princely beauty he stood,

Was the bow of the warriour unstrung;

And low in the shadows that darken thy wood The shield of the mighty was flung.

Oh, stronger than young mountain lions were they!

Like the eagles they never knew fear; And proud as they walked in their kingly array, Shone the light upon helmet and spear.

For Saul, oh, ye daughters of Israel most fair! Who clothed you in scarlet and gold, Untwine

every gem from your beautiful hair, And in sack-cloth your loveliness fold.

And I-oh, my brother! in sorrow for thee,
My spirit is bending full low!

Thy smiles and thy voice have been pleasant to

me,

As the streams that in Lebanon flow.

Thy love was a wonderful, beautiful thing,
More than kindles in woman's fond breast;

Not thy sister's young arms to my neck as they cling,

More tenderly ever caressed.

Ye daughters of music, encircle the dead!
And chant the funereal song;

The beauty, the glory of Israel have fled,
And low in the dust lie the strong.

Sarah's fondness for poetry was not only singular, but somewhat wonderful, as it had no incentives. The poetical talent cannot be developed without leisure; hence, though we often find it budding amid the common affairs of life, the sober, lowly pursuits by which we gain food and raiment, some mournful blight is sure to mar the expanding blossom, or its growth is cramped by petty cares. Our young songstress

had no leisure; her hands and her thoughts were both continually busy; and, in after years, when her cares increased in magnitude, they did not diminish in number. She was busy to the end. When we compare the last mournful effusion of the dying wife with the above spirited effort of the young girl, we are prevented from wondering at the small improvement in style and finish, only, by its exquisitely touching tone, made melodious by the poetry of the spirit. But the wonder, were it awakened, would pass away, could we follow both child and woman along their laborious paths, and see the thoughts of the moment linked hastily in careless rhyme, as the hurried traveller binds, while he hastens onward, the nosegay, not too nicely culled, which he gathered by the wayside. But young Sarah did not merely lack leisure; she had no one to guide and prune, to suggest and encourage; her whole library of poetry consisted of a copy of Ossian, (which she versified almost as freely as she did the Scriptures,) and Thomson's "Castle of Indolence." Yet it is impossible to examine her papers without feeling that she laid no common offering on the altar of her God, when she breathed the petition- "Here I am, send me !" With opportunities to ripen and improve, she

would have been surpassed by few female poets in the world. But a better destiny, though one of many shadows, lay before her, and none can regret that she chose the soberer pathway.

At the age of seventeen, we find Sarah teaching for a few months, that she may gain the means of studying for the same length of time; and then, pursuing the laborious task of paying for the morning's recitation, by taking charge of a class of little girls during the remainder of the day, and no doubt poring over her books far into the night. We are accustomed to consider a self-educated man, with all his physical strength and multiplicity of resources, worthy of all praise; what, then, shall we say of the woman, who, unassisted and alone, goes beyond most of her sex, in accomplishing the same object. It is difficult to ascertain the extent of our young student's school education, but passages from letters to intimate friends tell something; and the degree of mental discipline which she brought to the performance of later duties, proves that her attainments were not superficial.

"We have finished Butler's Analogy since you left school, and are now taking lessons in Paley's Evidences."

"I am studying Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric."

"I am engaged this term in the study of Logic and Geometry."

"I am at home this winter, teaching my little brothers, and so have more leisure to devote to my Latin."

Thus, with a multiplicity of duties on her hands, was she toiling patiently along the upward path to mental superiority - preparing for still heavier, but most precious toil.