Habit With It's Iron Sinews, Clasps Us

God - But A Word Invoked To Explain The World.

He, Who Can Create, Abhors Destruction.

Yet, In These Autumn Days When Nature Expires, Here, In These Veiled Scenes, I Find More Attractions; It Is A Friend's Sad Goodbye; It Is The Last Smile From Lips That Death Is Going To Close Forever!

The Loss Of A Mother Is Always Keenly Felt, Even If Her Health Be Such As To Incapacitate Her From Taking An Active Part In The Care Of The Family. She Is The Sweet Rallying-point For Affection, Obedience, And A Thousand Tendernesses. Dreary The Blank When She Is Withdrawn!

Utopias Are Often Just Premature Truths.