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But when at night he came upon the stage,

Cheer after cheer went up from that wide throng,
And flowers rained on him: naught could assuage
The tumult of the welcome, save the song
That he had sweetly sung, with covered face,
For the two beggars in the market-place.

FAITH'S VISTA.

WHEN from the vaulted wonder of the sky
The curtain of the light is drawn aside,
And I behold the stars in all their wide
Significance and glorious mystery,
Assured that those more distant orbs are suns
Round which innumerable worlds revolve,
My faith grows strong, my day-born doubts dis-
solve,

And death, that dread annulment which life shuns,
Or fain would shun, becomes to life the way,
The thoroughfare to greater worlds on high,
The bridge from star to star. Seek how we may,
There is no other road across the sky;

And, looking up, I hear star-voices say:

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Found on the shore where death's impatient deep
Hems in the narrow continent of life.

LOVE.

- Karagwe.

Her love welled up like water in a spring,
From which the more she gave the more was left,
And purer for the gift.

SORROW.

HABIT.

- Ibid.

Most men are prisoners at best,
Who some strong habit ever drag about

Like chain and ball.

STORM.

The Galley Slave.

ROSA VERTNER JEFFREY.

R

OSA VERTNER JEFFREY is a native of Natchez, Mississippi. Her original name was Griffith, but at the age of nine months her mother died, leaving her to the care of her maternal aunt, whose child she became by adoption, and whose name she received with a mother's love and nurture. Mr. Griffith, the father of Mrs. Jeffrey, was Sorrow, drunken on the wine of tears, a gentleman of cultivated literary tastes and a Sobbed, desperate, and, sighing, drank again. practiced and graceful writer in both prose and verse. - Ralph. He died in 1853, just as the sure gifts of his daughter were winning recognition. Rosa Vertner's early childhood was passed at Burlington, a beautiful country-seat near Port Gibson, Mississippi, and the home of her adopted parents. When she was ten years of age her parents removed to Kentucky for the purpose of superintending her education, which was obtained principally at a seminary in Lexington. At the age of seventeen she married Mr. Claude M. Johnson, and has since resided mostly in Lexington. Being blessed far beyond most women with both beauty of face and mind, and having an ample fortune at her command, her position in the social world has been a continued triumph, not only in her own immediate circle but in Washington and other cities she has been recognized as a leader. Mrs. Ellet considered her one of the "Queens of American Society." Mrs. Johnson was left a widow just as the war broke out, and about two years after was married to Alexander Jeffrey. She lived in Rochester, N. Y., during the war, and there wrote her first novel entitled "Woodburn." She has since written several dramas, and published another novel.

Last night you heard the tempest, love

entangled pines,

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the wind

The spraying waves, the sobbing sky that lowered in gloomy lines;

The storm was like a hopeless soul, that stood beside the sea,

And wept in dismal rain and moaned for what could never be.

NIGHT.

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As a poet Mrs. Jeffrey was the first Southern woman after Amelia Welby) whose writings attracted attention or approval throughout the United States. She commenced composing before she could write. At the early age of seven her mother copied the lines for her. At fifteen she wrote "The Legend of the Opal." Mrs. Jeffrey's first literary friend was George D. Prentice, who encouraged her in many ways. Other friends were George P. Morris, N. P. Willis, Washington Irving, Edward Everett, John G. Saxe and George Bancroft. Upon the publication of her poems in 1857, Northern and Southern critics alike awarded her such high praise that her position among the leading poets of this country was seemingly established, but the Civil War came and with it that prejudice against all things Southern which time has only recently effaced. The reputation was indeed won, but new writers and a new school have taken their place in the literature of the day, and like Rip Van Winkle a one time popular author finds herself almost forgotten. How unjust this verdict has been the accompanying study will show. N. L. M.

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