kind, and loving in his life. He was ambitious only to live with those he loved. He was hospitable, generous and sincere. He loved his friends, and the friends of his friends. He returned good for good. He lived the life of a child, and died without leaving in the memory of his family the record of an unkind act. Without assurance and without fear we give him back, as it were, to Nature, the source and mother of us all. Friend, husband, father, fare thee well!" At the grave the address was still shorter, and consisted of the following words:

66

'With morn, with noon, with night, with changing clouds and changeless stars-with grass, with trees, and birds, with leaf and bud, with flower and blossoming vine, with all the sweet influences of Nature, we leave our dead. Again, farewell!"

FORM 11.

The following magnificent poem by Wm. Cullen Bryant, is most appropriate to read at funerals:

THANATOPSIS.

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his dark musings with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;-
Go forth, unto the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around

Earth and her waters, and the depth of air,—
Comes a still voice. Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thine eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,
The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past;
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, -the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between ;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadows green; and, poured around all,
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there,

And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep-the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest, and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure. All that breathe

Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh,
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth, and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee.

As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,—
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn, shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Then go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

AN EXTRACT FROM BYRON.

Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps:
Is that a temple where a god may dwell?

Why ev'r the worm at last disdains her shattered cell.
Look on its broken arch, its ruined wall,
Its chambers desolate, and portals foul:

Yes, this was once ambition's airy hall,
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul;
Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole,

The gay recess of wisdom and of wit

And passion's host, that never brooked control:
Can all, saint, sage, or sophist ever writ,

People this lonely tower, this tenement refit.

-Childe Harold.

ANOTHER FROM BYRON.

Night wanes-the vapors round the mountains curled
Melt into morn, and light awakes the world.
Man has another day to swell the past,
And lead him near to little, but his last;
But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth,
The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth;
Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam,
Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.
Immortal man! behold her glorious shine,
And cry, exultingly, "they are thine!"
Gaze on, while yet thy gladdened eye may see;
A morrow comes when they are not for thee:
And grieve what may above thy senseless bier,
Nor earth, nor sky, will yield a single tear;
Nor cloud shall gather more, nor leaf shall fall,
Nor gale breathe forth one sigh for thee, for all;
But creeping things shall revel in their spoil,
And fit thy clay to fertilize the soil.

-Canto II. of Lara.

575642 A

On the

Obituary Notices.

FORM 1.

instant, in the year of his age, brother

He was an honest man in every sense in which the term could be applied to the human character. He was extremely liberal and charitable in his religious views, but adopted Spiritualism as the most reasonable to him. Socially he was a perfect gentleman, strictly temperate, a model of kindness and amiability in his every-day intercourse with his neighbors and fellow citizens. His whole being detested impurity of life in thought, word or action, yet his denunciations were seldom heard. Charity for all was the rule of life with him. He was a stranger to selfishness, and always tried to see how much he could do for those he loved. He rejected ornament, but at the same time was a strong advocate of truth and justice. The basis of a high character, unsullied integrity and unimpeachable honor belonged to him. He has now gone from Our midst, and though death has claimed its own, he yet lives in the loving words and deeds of kindness that are left in the memories of those whom he has left behind. As his change approached, he expressed himself ready to go, and consoled his friends with the assurance of a happy reunion in the Summer Land. Such a mind as his is immortal; its influence