may their successors worthily fill their vacant places; for such men can ill be spared! same seat I used then to occupy, alone Tompkins, I called on old friends, too, and refreshed the tender memories of earlier years, when they were in life's prime, and I as a child came unto them. God bless those Boston friends, all, all! In every sorrow, they have been steadfast and true, giving, not only the sweet sympathy of tears and loving words, but that "material aid" which feeds and clothes. I cannot bear to think that many of them are so near life's closing scene; that, in all probability, when next I visit them, I shall feel no earnest hand, shall see no pleasant smile, shall hear no kindly words, but receive only that mute greeting which the white stones of Mount Auburn give to the weeping pilgrim. But although they may, ay, must, pass away, our memories of their pure and hallowed lives will never, never fade. There are some names in that School Street Church to which the flight of time will yearly, add fresh laurels, and I esteem it a high honor that such noble men and such true women have called me friend. Yes, those two weeks were pleasant ones; and yet, sometimes, my eyes would fill with tears and my voice falter and my heart grow heavy. There were vacant places in Cornhill, vacant to me, though all filled up; for this busy world is like our battle-fields, the ranks close in fast as the veterans fall. How I longed for the warm grasp of those hands that lay folded in the quiet homes of that city just outside! Wrong, too, for me thus to yearn; for those hands had done the work commissioned them, and were resting from their toil, rich in the wages they had earned. Whittemore, Ballou, But the New England tour was over all too soon; for we were reluctantly obliged to abandon the journey into Connecticut, my own sight constantly failing, and my sister's neuralgic affections returning with great violence. So we went back to Albany, and for two weeks were completely prostrated. Then, as by a miracle, health and strength returned, and with the steady pulse, our eyesight, in a measure. Oh, the joy of our craving soul when the doctor said, "Now you may read a little every day." A little! ah, I made that little very big some days! I have never had any patience with the animadversions of some critics on the merits of "Hannah Thurston;" for that was the first volume I read after my blindness, and it fascinated me almost as much as it did the "Lizzie" of our household; and I felt when I closed it like doing as she said she did, - hugging it to her heart and screaming in very ecstasy. The vis ion of Hannah on her couch, so pale and weak, and yet so happy, with her newborn baby on her arm, and her husband leaning over her, has come to me again and again in my lonely yearnings; and I have said to myself, "The love of a true and noble man, the love of dear, sweet children, can the heart of a Woman ask for more?" Does it not atone for all the honors which an appreciative nation, or enthusiastic audience, can shower upon the out-door heroine? Glory be unto the woman who can go out into the highways of life and worthily fill the places of the other sex! I would not take a jot or tittle from her fair fame; but for myself, perhaps it is weak in me to say so; but I confess to a clinging nature, — I would rather be the happy wife and mother, though my name was unknown save in the neighborhood. Therefore is it, perhaps, that "Hannah Thurston" suited me. The story of her life ended where I have always pleaded with Heaven my own might end, — in a home, a country home, with flowers and fruits and trees and green grass and singing birds outside, and books and papers and pictures and peace and plenty within, encircled and sheltered by the love of a true and noble man. Would it not be a heaven upon earth? It looks so to me! Alas! that I am not strong-minded, strong-handed, and eloquently voiced, since that heaven is not for me! Alas! that my soul is not girt with mail, since it must do battle all its days! would come back. Yes, I remembered all the story of the winter, and I thanked God for the blessings left me, and prayed that he would give me strength for the future that looked so dreary. Then, for the last time, I leaned from the pleasant window, and, listening to the watchman's cry, "All's well," said cheerily, "I will hope a little longer; perhaps it may yet be all well with me." . IF I WAKE NO MORE. By Mrs. Helen Rich. WHAT if I pass like a vision away,— Dreamily sink to a dreamless sleep? hair, Folding the hands o'er the poor little heart, Mourn for the lost, if not stately and fair? Sigh from the form of the loving to part? Naming her graces, and breathing so low, Fearing the angels might, listening, hear, But I must return to my text; and yet all these things and a thousand others were thought of, as I sat there in the solemn silence, and quivered over "the to-come." I put them by after a while, as I do now, and went on retracing the story of my visit. I remembered the exciting days passed in the Army Relief Bazaar, that wondrous building that grew up as in a night; the eight hundred gasbarners flashing out lustrous light from eleven in the morning till the city bells Ah! would they, smoothing and twining my tolled midnight; the fancifully-decked booths, where every nationality was so finely represented; the curiosity shop, with its wonders from every storied spot; the trophy booth, where relics of our earlest national history were clustered under flags from a hundred battle-fields, smoked, tattered, bullet-pierced flags; and last, but not least, the thousands who thronged the aisles in one continuous stream. It did me good to go there. It quickened my faith in the divinity of the haman heart. What was all this for? To bring money or fame to the hard workers?-and oh, those women and young girls did work! Nay, nay! but to carry comfort to our soldiers! Oh, sometimes, when I read of Southern atrocities, I think the world has degenerated, and its men and women are all devils; and then, again, when I read and see and hear of What the Sanitary Commissions are doing and have done, I think it is regenerated, and its men and women angels. I remembered, too, long and pleasant rides and walks in and about the city of my nativity; calls and visits and shopping tours, when my hands were always filled from a sister's purse. I remembered, too, the thoughtful kindness and tender care which had shielded me all winter, and which, not content with what it had done, promised to do even more if I Failings and errors and follies you know, Blotting the record with Charity's tear? Tenderly dwelling on all that was sweet? Kindly forgetting the shadows that lay Hiding the roses that sprung where her feet Led to the broad and the radiant way? Kneeling to kiss, with a tremulous touch, Smiling to rest in eternal repose? Beautiful, beautiful, sleeping, to win Who would not seek bliss immortal within, Treasures of love from the hearts we adore. Than shiver with cold by the pearl-crested door? Brasher Falls, N. Y., June 18, 1864. COURAGE is always greatest when blended with meekness; intellectual ability is most admirable when it sparkles in the setting of a modest self-distrust; and never does the human soul appear so strong as when it foregoes revenge and dares to forgive an injury. THERIDA. A TALE OF THE NORTHMEN. By Mrs. L. J. B. Case. Ir was the latter part of spring, in the year 1002. A vessel was ploughing along the New England shore, and as the waters swept languidly the sides of the rude ship, it seemed to keep time to their undulating motion. The night was calm and clear. The crew were asleep below, all but one, who kept watch on the deck. He was a man of stout frame, with a head a phrenologist might envy, as it combined just those proportions of development which unite indomitable strength with great elevation and refinement of character. He gazed ahead in search of land; but his eye, wearied of the restless waste before him, soon wandered to the constellation Bootes. It seemed fallen from its proud height in the heavens, now that it shone beneath the unfamiliar latitude of a more southern sky, and stranger stars were gleaming in the opposite hemisphere. He was thoughtful. He rose and paced the deck in his excitement. His eye flashed, as he pushed back the luxuriant hair uncovered from the heat, with the feelings that swayed his spirit. The future rose before him, beautiful in the colorings of his imagination, and he felt powerful to perform the high deeds he meditated. "How now, Therida? why are you not asleep, dearest ? A light, graceful, female figure emerged from below, sprung forward and grasped the arm of the mariner. "What is the matter, love?" he asked again, in those tones so full of melody, the outgushing of the fountains of the heart. "Oh, Thorwald, I have had a dream, and such a dream! We were standing, you and I, on the brink of a grave. It was not at Heriulfsness, nor yet any place I have seen; but the air was soft and fragrant, and vines were clambering over the trees; and while we stood there, a hand invisible seemed to force us into it, until, just as we were falling, I awoke. Then sad thoughts of home came over me, and the words of old Gudruna rung in 66 Why do you think so sadly of Heriulfsness, Therida? Do you regret the love you gave the wanderer, and the vows we pledged, while the wind was filling our sails?" "Never, Thorwald, for one moment; yet I am sometimes sad, without knowing exactly why. Brynhilda laughs at my superstitious fancies, as she calls them, and says she would have been a more fitting bride for you. Nay, Thorwald; do not think I regret our union. I am only saddened by my dream. I will stay here a little while with you, and forget it; will you let me?" "Ay, dearest, but wrap this mantle round you," taking one from his shoulders and throwing it over her delicate form. The night is much warmer than our spring nights; but there may be more of disease in the air." 66 They sat down together on the projecting timbers. Therida still pursued the melancholy train of her thoughts. "I shall join with Brynhilda to help you away with these fancies, if they last much longer. Besides, Therida, I shall grow jealous, and think you are tired of me; do you not know I shall?" "Never think that, Thorwald, whatever else. Our hearts are one; ours shall be one home, one grave. Now I will have done with these sad things, and listen to you." "That is right, Therida. I have stories of another cast for your ear,—ay, and your approval, too, or they would not be so pleasant to me." The smile came to the lip of Therida, and her eyes forgot their tears, as she listened to the plans of her high-souled and ambitious husband. He spoke of soon reaching a beautiful land. He would there plant a colony that should receive the unfortunate and oppressed from all lands. He would found a mighty nation that should grow and prosper until it be came the admiration of the world. He would hold the reins of government; but he would govern in accordance with the laws of God. He would curb the refrac tory and lead the erring into the right and encourage the penitent. He would establish learning, and build up the worship of the only true God, as taught in the revelation of Jesus Christ; and future times should remember with pride the days of Thorwald. The hours wore away, and thus discussing the future, they did not deem how rapidly, until another joined them from below. "Therida, dearest, your sad fancies are all gone now go and sleep; for it will soon be morning.” have strong force of will; but I am differ- you dear, gen I would not bid it away, tle Therida! for it is happiness; but, Eric, if it should become a torment and a shame, I could cast it from me without a regret. Therida loves me. Think you I would love her, all good and kind as she is, if she did not? Life has other interests than love, if we will but open our eyes to see them; and when that becomes a dead weight on our energies, it is time it were removed. Try once more, The new-comer was a man shorter and Eric. Love is too proud to stay long slighter than Thorwald, yet of firmly-knit uninvited. Try a little longer; nothing proportions. His head, which was cov-like perseverance. It is success." ered only by smooth, light-brown hair, was finely shaped, yet indicating more of refined sensibility than of those sterner traits that come in to form the most perfest model of manly excellence. He was one to be loved calmly, gently, with a brotherly affection; but he was not one to enchain the lofty spirit of a high-minded female, to go in the van of conquest, or found an imperishable renown. "What is the matter with you, Eric, my brother? Have you, too, had bad dreams?" said Thorwald. Eric was not his brother, though he loved him, and often called him by the term. It now jarred unpleasantly on his ear. "No," said he, "not bad dreams, exeept waking ones; but I could not sleep, and thought I would relieve you. If you will not let me do that, I will stay and look at the skies." "Ay, and think on Brynhilda, the cold and haughty Brynhilda, who would not lose a moment's sleep if you were to jump into the sea for her! Fie, Eric, fie; wake up from this foolish love-dream; drive it away, and be a man!" "Easier said than done, Thorwald!" Not so, Eric; you make no effort. You should have more self-respect than to love where it is unreturned. Make one vigorous call upon your pride, and depend upon it, your love will be gone even before you are aware of it." "You might do it, Thorwald; for you 66 It may be with you, Thorwald; do not press me on that point. Heaven constituted you for vigorous action, and me for feeling. It may be unmanly and weak; but if I have been made a melancholy dreamer, I must still dream on, for aught I can see." Thorwald looked at his pale features. "Well, Eric, this blood of the Skalds is a bad material to help adventurers on their way, whether in love or on the seas. A stout heart and strong resolution go further than sighs and musing. It should have been your fortune to love one as gentle and kind as Therida, and sing soft lays in the summer evenings at our own Heriulfsness, and read wise books by the winter fireside, instead of tossing on these seas for the sake of a proud girl! A sound caught the ear of Thorwald of billows breaking on the shore. Land was near. The first faint beams in the east told that day was also at hand. Slowly, but delightfully to the eyes of the adventurers, they increased, till the east was blazing with these heralds of the sun. Every motion of the vessel brought nearer the shore so long expected. It seemed like a living thing, proud of its office, and impatient to reach that unknown land. All hands were soon stirring on deck. They approached an island, and they knew it to be that one first discovered by Leif, in his voyage. Sailing westward, through the strait that cleft it from the mainland, they came where a river poured itself into the sea, and the dwellings of Leifsbuthir rose upon their view.* "Wineland! Wineland the good!" shouted the deep voices of the crew. All was life and merriment and hope. Before night the little colony had established themselves in the vacant dwellings left by their predecessors; and the ring of the axes of the Northmen once more resounded in the pathless woods, while the cheerful voices of women and children from the dwellings spoke the joy of the immigrants at finding a home. To the eyes of these children of a frozen climate, the new region was the land of paradise. Vines were climbing up the trees so abundantly that it justified Leif in calling the country " Wineland." Flowers they had never seen before sprung up beneath their footsteps; deer roamed freely in the woods; and birds of new and more beautiful plumage sung in the stately forests that fringed the bank of the river. The air was full of fragrance, and even on the grass there was a sweet, delicious dew, that reminded them of the manna of old. They thought they had found the land of rest; and long before the chant of the Pilgrim Fathers started the wild bird on the shores of the Pilgrim bay, the grateful hymns of the Northmen pealed along the magnificent aisles of that primeval cathedral, and the lonely forests were vocal with the worship of the one true God. In one of the most comfortable tenements of Leifsbuthir, Thorwald had fixed the home of himself and Therida. It was near the river, where the wild rose and the meek sweetbrier, beautiful as a chastened spirit, leaned over the mirroring water, and the extremest edge of the bank was of a velvet verdure, till it dipped into the placid stream. Was it not Elysium to the eyes of young love? Therida was gay once more. She had forgotten the sad omens of the past. She * Leifsbuthir, or Leif's booths, the dwellings constructed and left by Leif, who was probably the first discoverer of that portion of the New World now known as Massachusetts and Rhode Island. The date of his voyage is assigned to A. D. 1000,- two years previous to the voyage of Thorwald. thought often of her friends at Heriulfsness; but Love and Hope are mighty magicians, and soon scatter the clouds from the mind; and she trained the vines around her door, and taught the prettiest and sweetest of the wild-flowers to blossom there; and in the tall maples that shaded it were congregated the choicest of the woodland orchestra. True, she missed the brilliant aurora of the north in the winter nights, and the moon had a more languid light than when shining over the larches and dwarf pines at Heriulfsness; but the winters were less cold and long, and the flowers came forth earlier, and Thorwald was near; that made perpetual springtime in her heart. Time wore on. It was the beginning of autumn. The grapes peeped in rich clusters from among the veiling leaves; the beautiful tinge of decay was on the maple leaf; and the soft air was full of pleasing melancholy, like the memories of departed love. It was the hour of sunsetting. A maiden and a youth stood in a little grove that coquettishly played with the stream, now throwing down and now withdrawing its graceful shadows. She was taller and more queenlike in her air than Therida; but she had the same proportion of curls, of that most beautitiful color, light, golden brown, and something of the same cast of features, though the gentleness of Therida was lost in her sterner aspect. Still she was very beautiful, a fitting companion for the seakings of old, or the Odins, whose heroic deeds caused them to be received after death as the gods of her Scandinavian forefathers. She was no love for the gentle and imaginative Eric; yet there he was, pleading his unsuccessful suit. Poor youth! he had been tempted, by time and opportunity, to the commission of even a greater folly than loving Brynhilda,— that of trying to overcome the indifference of her heart by laying bare the lacerated and quivering fibres of his own. But his error brought its own punishment; for Brynhilda turned haughtily away, and left him in the midst of one of his most impassioned appeals. Eric gazed after her a moment, then passed away in a different direction, with |